Lost Boys
by Turkaholic
Summary: The Master rules the Earth on board the Valiant, the Doctor as his prisoner. What really happened between them in the Year that Never Was? (M/M: Master x Doctor) (Sex, violence, romance, and plot)
1. Prologue

_Preface:_

_Does anybody ever have those niggling little ideas? Like worms inside your head; an itch just begging you to scratch it? Well, this is mine, and has been drifting round my eccentric little head for years, nagging me to write it out.  
_

_My writing, I am well aware, has flaws, and always will do. Constructive criticism is always welcome. **This is a work in progress**. I edit little bits as I go along, but I intend to leave most of the editing until it's complete.  
_

_This fic isn't just about sex. This is a story with sex scenes, not a story about sex scenes. Don't get me wrong - there will be a fair amount of Master/Doctor goodness, but basically this is an epic story about the (nearly thousand-year-old) relationship between them. There is a plot to work through, too. Call it a labour of love._

_ Just to be clear: **There will be no rape, heavy BDSM etc. in this fic. Nor is it about subjugating the Doctor. **The Master - I know - _could_ be written like that, but not in this fanfic. I never saw the character like that (for reasons that will become clear as you read on), and I care too damn much about these characters to force them into something I don't think is in character. The relationship between the Master and the Doctor can be fairly dark and twisty... and infuriatingly complicated to write, but this is still a romance (and an adventure... And a psychological thriller... I dunno, you tell me). In the end, I'm writing this as canon (since this is what I always imagine happened in the Year that Never Was). In my very strange head this is canon, and always has been.  
_

_**In a way, this is a mystery story.** Read it as canon, take into account everything you know about the characters, and read between the lines. Things will be explained eventually, but where would be the point of a story if everything was explained at the beginning?_

_I would also like to thank the lovely _QuietPlace_, who has begun translating this fic into French. You can find her translated version on her profile._

**_And Finally: _**_I would just like to say that **nothing from the Moffat**_** era** _**has any bearing on this story**! In my own weird little way, I don't consider post-Ten canon at all. My fandom lies solely in the pre-11th Doctor eras._

_Whew. Anyway, here it is, folks. I really hope you enjoy, and drop me a review if you do.  
_

* * *

**Prologue**

Captain Jack Harkness sat alone at the bar. He couldn't remember which bar, or even which planet he was on. Stubble covered his once clean-shaven chin, and he rubbed at it morosely as he listened to the chatter of alien tongues around him. He looked at himself in the mirror: red-eyed, sleep-deprived, but still attractive. Or at least he thought so. Maybe it was the alcohol talking.

Over his shoulder he stared at the strange creatures huddled in their booths, muttering. Most of them looked familiar: some had faces like Slitheen, others moved like Weevils. Each one brought back a memory, like an electric shock through his stomach. He forced his eyes away, and swallowed his drink like an elixir, feeling the burning numbness filter through him.

"Hey, big fella!"

Jack swayed on his stool as he raised his hand in the air to get the barman's attention. The green, scaled creature turned, seemed to click its mandibles impatiently, and walked over, staring at Jack's unshaven face.

Jack grinned. "Ah, the strong and silent type, huh? I can work with that."

The stool beside him screeched as somebody sat. He felt a new pair of eyes on him as he clutched at the edge of the counter, trying not to fall off his stool. Watching eyes were nothing new, people either thought he was attractive or insane – or both. In any case, Jack Harkness was in no mood to entertain strangers.

He slid his empty glass towards the lizard-man. "Fill her up, would ya? I'm feeling a little dry here."

The bartender's pupils narrowed into slits. He clicked his mandibles together, ignoring the empty glass in front of him.

"Pay."

Jack sighed and slid a hand through his unwashed hair. "Put it on my tab."

"Tab now closed. Pay."

"Ah, I thought we might come to this. Sorry, big guy. Looks like I left my wallet in my other coat."

A flash of green. Silence fell on the bar as Jack felt webbed hands clench around his throat. A deafening crash echoed around the room as his stool toppled backwards, and Jack was hoisted into the air. The bartender's eyes flashed red.

"I'll pay." Said a quiet voice beside him. Eyes both human and alien watched as a hand slid across the bar between them, pushing a hand full of credits towards the barman. Jack's careless grin slid from his face. Hair stood up on the back of his neck. He recognised that voice.

The barman chattered, mandibles clicking together thoughtfully. A moment later Jack was on the floor, head spinning more than usual, and the barman had moved away, credits chinking in his hand.

Shakily, Jack pulled himself back to his feet. He clutched the lip of the bar like a crutch, still frowning. Perhaps he'd begun hallucinating. He'd never actually asked what was in those drinks, maybe that voice – that impossible voice – had been alcohol, and wishful thinking.

"You keep drinking like that, Jack, you'll kill yourself." Came the voice again. Jack stared down at the floor, almost too scared to look up. He smirked ironically. "Yeah, and wouldn't that be a crying shame." Jack rubbed at his bruised neck silently for a moment. "I thought you were dying."

There was a sigh. "Yeah, well… a lot of that going round. A- are you just going to stand there swaying all night?"

Jack laughed. "Not exactly my choice. Unfortunate side effect."

"It just it's a bit… well… off-putting."

"What, it doesn't add something to my masculine charm?"

Jack continued to stare at the spinning tiled floor as he heard the figure stoop to pick up the overturned bar stool. A moment later he was being pushed back into his seat by a pair of sturdy hands. Hands he recognised. Hands that made it real. Finally, Jack had the courage to look up. He gulped.

"I thought you regenerated."

The Doctor stood with a long-fingered hand on Jack's shoulder, the same hand that had led him and others through the doors of the Tardis so many times. Keen brown eyes met Jack's soft blue, eyes that had watched planets burn, people live and die. It was the same old Doctor. No new face.

The Doctor cleared his throat. "No… well, yes. Well, yes _and_ no. Sort of. Long story."

"Isn't it always?"

The Doctor's face lightened a little, the ghost of a smile on his lips as he leaned back against the bar. Even then, Jack could sense something like sadness lurking behind. "It's good to see you."

The Tardis stood in an alleyway across from the bar. Not far, but far enough for Jack to stumble and trip several times over nothing but air. Each time the Doctor – _his_ Doctor – had to steady him, chastising him in the same old way. When the Tardis doors swung open to meet them, it felt as though Jack were walking into warm sunlight. The Doctor deposited him on the Tardis floor.

"Sorry Jack, but you're far too heavy to carry all the way to the bedrooms."

"I've slept in worse places in my time. But still… what a disappointment for a guy."

The tall, thin Doctor's lip twitched momentarily into a smile, but even as Jack's eyes closed the Doctor's smile fell away, and he realised that he looked almost as tired as Jack did himself.

For the first time in months, Jack woke up sober. Every inch of him ached, inside and out. The sound of the Tardis hammered in his ears, making his head feel as though it were ready to explode, and footsteps on clanging metal seemed to thud behind his eyes. He clawed himself up the wall, eyes still tightly shut.

"Ouch." He muttered redundantly. The pacing footsteps stopped.

"Bit of an understatement, I reckon." Came an amused voice, carrying over the throbbing engines. "You look half dead. Exactly how much did you drink last night?"

Jack peered an eye open, still clinging to the Tardis wall. The light burned into his eyes like a Sun, but there stood the Doctor, a look of incredulity and amusement mixed in his face. Jack gasped in pain. "Enough. Enough to pick a fight with a lizard man, if I remember right."

"Oh, no no no no no that wasn't a lizard. Hybrid race Sauraphore. Mix between a lizard and an insect, hence the mandibles. Really useful when they're eating seafood, rips the shells right off… anyway –"

The Doctor suddenly vaulted the railings around the control console and jumped down to stand next to the reeling jack. The thud made Jack's teeth clench. "You, Jack Harkness, need to clean yourself up. You stink of… booze and… dirt. The fumes off you are enough to make the Tardis woozy. Don't want that to happen - again."

It hurt to think. Jack's mind whirled with questions, but he knew the Doctor's moods too well. There was no way he'd get a straight answer right now.

"…right." Jack dared to open his other eye to the burning light, staring into the Doctor's impossible face. "Washrooms… still opposite the swimming pool?"

The Doctor simply patted him on the shoulder and winked playfully, then turned back towards the control panel, leaving Jack both amused and annoyed, and stumbling blindly towards the corridor.

The Doctor listened carefully, pretending to press buttons and watch the screens until he heard Jack's footsteps echo into the distance. He stopped suddenly, hunching over the console, long pale fingers clutching to the controls tightly as he stared vacantly into thin air. He could hear his hearts pounding furiously in his ears. The time was coming, and Jack was the only one who could possibly understand.

* * *

The Tardis seemed different. Bigger; more vibrant than Jack had ever seen it. Every surface seemed to radiate energy, every light seemed to bathe him in something… else; something more fulfilling. And yet the Tardis was the same. It was Jack that had changed. What had once been an adventure was a need.

The Tardis wasn't just the Tardis anymore. She was salvation.

Jack took his time returning to the control room; exploring each side-passage as if it were new, and urging his headache into submission. By the time he arrived back, the engines had stopped.

"We landed?" He called up. The Doctor looked away from the screen and surveyed him. A benevolent smile spread across his face.

"Oh, now that's better." The smile spread into a manic grin. All Jack could do was grin back. The Doctor's grins were always infectious. "Clean face… hair back where it should be…" The Doctor gave him a mock salute. "Welcome back, Captain."

"Good to be back. Hey, I could say the same to you." Jack ran up the walkway. "Last time I saw you, it looked like you were saying goodbye."

"Well plans change… especially mine. Like I said – long story."

Jack shrugged. "Not exactly running out of time."

The Doctor's face changed; only slightly. His grin faded a fraction. Jack took the hint. He turned towards the doors. "So, where have we landed?"

The Doctor glanced momentarily towards the doors, then back at the screen. "Nowhere. Not yet."

"But the engines have stopped."

"We're… currently floating in space."

Jack frowned. Something in the Doctor's voice sounded wrong.

"…Where in space?"

There was a pause. The Doctor sniffed, walking around the controls, checking screens.

"The… Medusa Cascade."

The Doctor cleared his throat, trying to look busy. Jack spun around on the spot, his brow furrowed.

"The Medusa Cascade? But Doctor, that's –"

"I know."

"But – but why?"

There was a moment of silence. The only sounds were those of the Tardis: soft sighs in the pipes below their feet; the twitter and click of information appearing and vanishing from screens. The Doctor seemed unable to look Jack in the face.

"Oh… Jack." The Doctor sighed, his face falling into a deep frown. "Humans always do ask questions in the wrong order. The question you should have asked is this:" He looked at him over his glasses, staring into the Captain's eyes with that serious gaze. "Why did I come back for you? No offense, but you're not one of my first choices as a travelling companion. Donna… Martha… even -"

Another word hung in the air; unspoken, but in both their minds. Jack felt his stomach drop, but as usual he shrugged it off with a smile. "Ok, I get it. I'm not in your top ten. Then… why did you come back for me?"

The Doctor hesitated before he answered, apparently looking for the right words. He focused his gaze upon the screens again. "Because… you're the only one left." He sighed, sadness filtering through his eyes. "They've all moved on, but you? You're stuck in the past, just like me. Reliving a thousand regrets, unable to move forward. Paralysed by your past."

The words winded Jack. His eyes glazed over, and he placed his hands in his pockets uncomfortably, all too aware of the sympathy in the Doctor's voice.

"I heard about Ianto Jones. I'm so sorry."

"Yeah." Jack nodded, bowing his head. "Me too."

"But that's why I came back for you. You're the only one that can possibly understand what I'm about to show you. And – it's a very long story but - I can't move on until I've shared it."

Jack felt a shiver on the back of his neck, though he knew the Doctor well enough not to show it. The Doctor's words seemed to echo inside the empty walls of the Tardis, as though she too knew that something was wrong; something was missing.

"Okay, Doctor. You've done way more than your fair share for the rest of the universe. Maybe it's time I returned the favour."

The Doctor removed his glasses, placing them gently on the console. He took a deep breath and stood upright.

"We're in the centre of the Medusa Cascade because I need its energy to make this work."

"Make what work?"

"Places have memories: that's why there are ghosts; why your hair stands up on end when you visit somewhere you have strong connections with. It's the energy contained within your memories synchronising with those contained in the area. Those memories synchronise and react – like atoms fusing together."

Jack nodded, his brow furrowed. "So your memories of the Medusa Cascade are reacting with those already here."

"Yes. Right now, the air is charged with energy. Memory energy. Useless, and undetectable. Unless you're a Timelord."

Jack's head was spinning, and not just through his headache. The Doctor wasn't making sense. But then, he thought, when did he ever?

"So what does 'memory energy' do?"

The Doctor looked at him, raising his eyebrows incredulously. "What?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Memory energy, Doctor. What does it do?"

"Haven't you been listening?" He pulled a lever. The Tardis shrieked into life. "It recreates memories."

Jack clung on to the handrail as the Tardis rocked, hissing and wailing painfully, every wall and floor groaning with the sheer pressure. Jack felt adrenaline surge through his tired body as he clutched to the metal, trying desperately not to be flung into the air. A reminiscent smile stretched his face. He'd missed this. All of it.

"Where are we going?"

"Into my memories." Shouted the Doctor, concentrating on the control console. He swayed with every lurch unconsciously, like a captain aboard a ship. "Nine-hundred and eighty-four days ago exactly."

The whisper of a memory swept across Jack's mind, but before he could place it the Tardis had come to a shuddering halt, leaving him seasick and dizzy.

As Jack untangled himself from the railings, the Doctor pressed a final control and looked up at the monitor, the light casting shadows on his face. He still seemed tired, Jack thought, but like a hologram the effect could only be seen from certain angles. Trepidation replaced Adrenaline, and that uneasy sense of something not quite right crept back into his stomach.

"Did we make it? Where are these memories?" The Doctor's eyes flickered towards the doors. Jack turned. "Well? What are we waiting for?" He took a step towards them.

"Jack, wait."

The Captain obeyed, standing still on the spot. The slow footsteps behind him let him know the Doctor was coming to stand beside him. There was a sigh.

"What you see through those doors will probably… well – no doubt about it really – it's going to change forever how you see me." He swept a hand uncertainly through his hair. "Annnd that's the problem. I don't know if you'll understand everything you see, but you have to promise me before you go anywhere near those doors that you'll stick it out; and that you'll try your hardest. Try to understand."

Jack turned his head, staring. A deep, complex frown adorned the tall man's face, his hands clenched at his side.

"Doctor… you changed my life." The words stuck in Jack's throat. He reached out and grabbed the tall man's hand. It twitched momentarily, but didn't pull away. "Nothing you can ever say or do will take that away." The Doctor stayed silent. Jack bit his lip. Didn't he understand how much Jack owed him? "… You have my word."

"Good." He sniffed, still not making eye contact. "Well then… allons-y."

And then the doors opened, and Jack was blinded by light.

* * *

The Master stood on the deck of the Valiant, his arms folded, and a look of ill-concealed bliss contorted his face.

"I'm taking control, _Uncle Sam_; And I'm starting with you. Kill him."

_Jack averted his face, but he couldn't block out the scream – nor the memories of what happened that day. The images flashed in front of his face – blood; gore; pain… it was too much to bear._

_ The Doctor stood beside him, still subconsciously clutching his hand, digging his bony fingers into Jack's flesh. He was watching the scene passively, as though it were a movie playing out before them on a television screen._

_ "Doctor! Those people are going to die, can't we save them?"_

_ "Sorry Jack." Muttered the tall man, a lump forming in his throat. "This isn't real. It's a visual recreation, forged from my memories using the energy of the Medusa Cascade. These people are already dead." He glanced at the captain, his eyes glazed with tears. "These are shadows; nothing more."_

"…And look, it's the girly and the freak. Although… I'm not sure which one's which."

_Hairs crept on the back of Jack's neck as he watched himself staring at the Master. His breath caught in his throat._

_ And then he watched himself die._

_ "You know…" He breathed, gritting his teeth, "somehow I always thought I'd look all hot and tragic when I died, but –" He grimaced as the other Jack collapsed to the floor, a tangle of limbs. Martha screamed. "- really. That does not look dignified."_

_ The Doctor declined to answer, his eyes wide. He was watching the scene play out intently, his eyes flickering from one player to another, making connections; recalling regrets that Jack couldn't see or understand. Or, at least: that Jack didn't understand _yet_._

_ And so Jack and the Doctor watched. The Doctor watched himself beg at the feet of the Master, his hearts beating frantically in his chest. He heard himself scream as the Master manipulated his genetic code; and he saw his own wrinkled, age-worn body collapse to the floor, and saw himself mutter those fatal words into Martha's ear. Orbs fell to Earth with their razor-sharp blades. Martha escaped. Jack was taken away, and the Doctor was placed in a chair: the Master's pet. The Master's trophy. The memory faded to black._

_ Jack blinked. He gasped, his lungs raw and burning. He hadn't realised he'd been holding his breath, and warm hot liquid was trickling down his fingers: his fist had clenched. He'd made himself bleed._

_ "Doctor, I don't understand." He panted. "We've already seen this. I was there!"_

_ "This was the beginning." Came the reply, thick with restrained emotion. "You saw the beginning and the end of the story, but you never knew the middle. I always hoped that I could hide it, cast it into a dark corner of my mind like so many other things, but now it turns out I can't." The Doctor's voice fell heavy in the nothingness, bitter and sharp on Jack's ears like a death knell. "You need to know. I need you to understand."_

_ Jack was still holding the Doctor's hand, thick with mingled sweat. He squeezed it gently._

_ "Then show me."_


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

The Master strode impatiently across the bridge of the Valiant, tapping his fingers on the lapel of his suit. His face was contorted in a familiar look of mixed pride and annoyance, his lips pressed together in deep thought.

The Doctor watched. His weary old eyes followed the Master's every move, forwards and backwards across a backdrop of glittering orbs and burning continents. He licked his lips and opened his mouth, trying to think of what to say; like working out an equasion, he was sure that the right words said in the right order would be enough to stop the Master. But his mind wasn't what it was.

"Master…"

The Master stopped, his fingers ceasing their incessant drumbeat. He looked around theatrically. Lucy giggled.

"I'm sorry, did someone hear something? It sounded like an insane old man talking gibberish."

The Doctor gritted his teeth, trying to work up the strength to shout, but it was to no avail. Lucy smoothed her red dress elegantly and swayed over to her husband, taking his hand with that deceitfully innocent smile. The Master's face split into a triumphant grin. "No?"

"Master, please…"

Finally, the empty eyes of the Master locked with his. The grin transformed into a snarl of contempt. "Oh… _you_. I'd almost forgotten about you, granddad. What's wrong? You need your nappy changed?"

The Doctor clutched the arms of his chair as the Master jogged down the steps of the bridge. He knelt down beside him, the look of contempt still etched on his face.

"Master please, just stop. Just think about what you're doing. These people –"

A hand shot out, and a finger pressed itself against his lips, cutting him off. The Master bared his teeth, a tongue darting out strangely. He hissed. "I would have thought," He growled, staring into the Doctor's dim eyes, "that adding a hundred or so years to you would have made you shut up for once."

"Not until you understand." The Doctor breathed, "You've got to stop this madness before it's too late."

The Master surveyed his captive for a moment, his dark, manic eyes darting across the Doctor's face. The Doctor opened his mouth to speak again, but before he could, the Master had jumped backwards, his expression once again changed to one of insane joy. "But where's the fun in that?" He laughed, spreading his arms wide. "Oh, Doctor, don't you see? This is the beginning of a new Timelord Empire! Imagine –" He leapt up the steps, raising his arms towards the windows triumphantly, "An empire spanning galaxies! My little friends and I forging a brand new universe, planet by planet, with your beloved little Earth at the epicentre." The Master closed his eyes blissfully and sighed, basking in the sunlight, and the heat of a thousand fires burning below. Lucy leaned against the rails, her head held high proudly and a superior look in her eye. The Doctor's mind whirled in a flurry of possibilities and options, ideas to stop the Master; to make him see. None of them seemed valid.

After a moment, the Master turned, staring down at the old man like an insect; something disgusting. "And you, _old man_, you have the privilege of watching history in the making." The Doctor stared up at him, still thinking of the right words to say. His hearts were beating so hard that his chest hurt, but that didn't matter. What mattered now was trying to get through to him.

_Jack stood against the wall of the Valiant, imagining the pain and frustration and grief the Doctor had felt at this moment. Right now below deck, Jack himself would be dying again. He'd lost count how many times he'd been killed while he was the Master's prisoner, and mostly he'd tried to block it out since then. _

_ He turned to look at the Doctor once more. He'd let go of his hand, and now had his arms folded tightly across his chest. His breathing seemed laboured, as if in tune with that of the old man who now sat, helpless in the chair. Jack wiped the crusting blood from his hand on his jacket, folding his arms, mimicking the Doctor._

_ "I was sure that the right words would change his mind." Sighed the Doctor, stepping across the room towards himself. "Some phrase, some half-remembered moment from our childhood. Of course I knew Martha was out there, spreading the word, but I was never sure; never certain that our plan would work. Half the time, I thought I'd sent her out there to die."_

The Master grabbed his wife by the hand and swept her majestically across the bridge, turning his back on the old Doctor. They began to dance, both laughing, as though they were newlyweds on a honeymoon. Emergency broadcasts filtered through the Valiant's systems; the screams and pleading in a thousand different languages mingled together, the desperate song of a world in pain. The Master and his wife danced through it all, hearing only music in their heads. One by one, the broadcasts subsided into silence, and Lucy and the Master shared a devouring kiss of triumph. The Doctor looked away.

"Master, our work is complete." Came a childish voice. The Doctor heard the hum of an Orb as it floated through the air. The Master laughed and clapped his hands.

"Excellent! Oh… beautiful work, children! Any sign of the Martha girl yet?"

The Doctor's hearts skipped a beat. He muttered under his breath, and waited.

"We tried and tried and _tried_ to find pretty Martha, but she's gone, and we can't find her."

The Doctor tried to keep his face neutral, to give away nothing, but nonetheless a smile found its way onto his ancient face.

The Master pressed his lips together until they were taut and pale, holding back his anger. His eyes passed over the Doctor carelessly, but then shot back as he noticed the smile. His brow furrowed angrily.

"Well never mind, boys and girls. Keep looking, and in the meantime –" The Master leaned over the railings of the bridge, watching the Doctor's expression carefully. "Tell me, what exactly was it that you said to our young Miss Jones?"

The Doctor's smile spread further across his face, his old eyes wrinkling. He drew in a breath.

"Like I'd ever tell you."

The Master's eyes flashed with anger, his fingers digging into the metal in his hands. Lucy backed away. Apparently she had seen this kind of anger before.

"You… pathetic old man. You must be losing your marbles if you think I'll let you stay quiet."

The Doctor continued to smile. The Master's face fell into a dark snarl. "It doesn't matter. She's… out of your reach; out of your control." The Doctor smiled wider, raising his eyebrows. "…and doesn't that just scare you."

There was a horrific silence. Lucy had pressed herself against the wall, trying to avoid the wrath of her husband. The Doctor and the Master stared at each other; one with a look of intense venom, the other wrapped in a benevolent smile. A moment later, the Master screamed.

"Get that decrepit old fool off my bridge!"

Two guards rushed forward, guns in hand to do the Master's bidding. The Doctor continued to smile. Before they could reach the door, the Master rushed forward, grinding his teeth like an animal. He stood before the Doctor. "Don't worry, Doctor, I've got a special room for you. Excellent views, an en-suite, all the mod cons… and –oh yes…" The Master slammed his hands down on the arms of the Doctor's wheelchair, his feral face mere inches from the Doctor's, "…it's Timelord-proof."

With that, the Master stepped aside, his eyes following the old man out of the bridge, and into the corridor beyond.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

The Doctor sat alone, staring down at his aged hands and listening to the hiss and whispers of the air conditioning in his otherwise silent room. It reminded him of the Tardis, and he closed his eyes with a heavy breath. His beloved Tardis; ripped apart and deformed by the Master. She was gone.

He opened his eyes, staring vacantly out of the small, hardened glass window. Nothing but orange sky stretched out before him, and he couldn't find the energy to climb up and look downwards. Nonetheless he was sure the sunset wasn't due for several hours. That burnt orange sky wasn't the product of the Sun; it was the glow of fires burning far below on the surface.

The room itself had nothing of interest within. The Master had been right: it was Timelord proof. Every inch of it had been carefully checked by the only person who could think like him, know the way his mind worked. The Master had created this room especially for him, as if he had expected the Doctor to become his prisoner. The thought of it made the Doctor shiver.

The air itself was sterile. The Doctor could taste it on the tip of his tongue. Plain white carpets met plain white walls; a plain white bed was covered in plain white covers, and a plain white door led to a plain white shower in the next room. A screen lay inches behind thick glass, set into the wall opposite the bed, far from the reach and interference of the prying Doctor. A sterile white chest of drawers stood opposite the chair in which the old man now sat. That was all.

If it was the Master's intention to drive him mad, he thought, he had chosen the perfect environment to do it.

"So, Doctor," came a pompous voice. The old man jumped, raising his eyes to the door. The Master smiled, the door sliding closed behind him in perfect silence. "are we settling in? I know, I know I should have sent you to a retirement home but I'm afraid it would break my hearts to send you away."

The old man looked up at him in silence. The Master pouted.

"Oh… nothing to say? No… words of wisdom? No ridiculous pleas for mercy?" he sat down on the edge of the pristine bed with a thud, then leaned forward, his hands clasped in his lap. "I had no idea you'd become such a grump."

The Doctor's eyes turned to the closed door, ideas circling in his head. The Master seemed to read his thoughts, and broke into laughter. "Oh, no no no. No you don't." He leaned forward and pushed the old man roughly back into the chair. "Remember, Doctor, I've got your genetic code. One tiny step outside this room without my consent, and that door is programmed to recognise your DNA. You'll be blasted into atoms." He pressed a finger hard into the Doctor's chest, still grinning. "And atoms can't regenerate."

The Doctor clenched his teeth, sitting back in his chair as the words sank in. The Master had thought of everything. His ideas had run dry. He sighed and stared out of the window, determined not to look at the Master's psychotic grin. The other Timelord made a sound of disgust.

"Really… you do make a boring old man. I thought you'd be… funnier. Forgetting my name… wetting yourself… something, but really you're just… boring."

The Doctor heard a click. He pulled his gaze away from the window, but before he could even locate the noise his entire body began to shake.

_ The Doctor watched himself scream, his face contorted, his limbs shuddering and jolting. The Master's face was filled with vindictive glee, his tongue pressed between his teeth in sheer concentration as he pointed the screwdriver at the screaming Doctor. He tried to remember how it felt, but physical pain was so fleeting. His fingers flexed as he watched his other self collapse back onto the chair, no longer an old man, but obviously still in pain._

_ Jack stood beside him, watching the scene in confusion. The Doctor had never told him about this, but then he'd never told him much of anything. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but the look of consternation on the Timelord's face held his words back. He wasn't here to ask questions, he was here as a witness._

"Oh yes, that's much better." Patronised the Master. The Doctor opened his eyes painfully, feeling his hearts beating normally once more. He looked down at his hands. The Master had restored him. His un-wrinkled brow folded into a frown.

"But it doesn't make any sense." He blurted, looking into the Master's glittering eyes. "You could have done anything to me, why put me back this way? Why even bother?"

The other Timelord rolled his eyes and grunted, throwing himself back onto the bed. "Ugh because you were so _boring_ as an old man. This way's much more fun."

The Doctor sat forward, his eyes wide in disbelief as he surveyed himself. He stood up, slowly. Every muscle in his body felt strained and tired, and yet he had his energy back. He stared down at the Master, spread-eagled on the bed. Apparently he had no concerns that the Doctor would dare to hurt him, and the Doctor felt his stomach drop: the Master knew him too well.

"So they're gone."

The Doctor placed his hands in his pockets and walked over to him, still frowning; still aching.

"…What?"

The Master tutted.

"Our _people_, Doctor. Last night, you said they were gone."

Last night. It seemed so long ago. He strained to remember the phonecall.

"…Yes." He whispered.

The Master stared thoughtfully at the blank ceiling, then placed his hands leisurely behind his head. Orange clouds fled past the small window. It seemed an eternity before the Master spoke.

"…You did it."

The Doctor held his breath. His eyes widened. He bared his teeth, feeling his chest heavy and constricted. The Master sounded so offhanded.

"…Yes." He muttered, then stepped backwards, falling dizzily into the chair.

The Master closed his eyes slowly, letting out a ragged breath as a blissful smile spread across his face. "Oh… Doctor. And you think we're so different."

The Doctor turned towards him, an expression of pain on his face.

"I am _nothing_ like you." He said, his voice shaking. "I stood and fought. I watched Gallifrey burn; I was there at the fall of Arcadia. I watched a million-million ships fall into the jaws of the Nightmare Child, and I decided that it had to stop. You ran. You ran and hid, all the way at the end of the universe just so you wouldn't have to fight."

"You ran too." The Master muttered, still smiling. "Something tells me that I'm not the only coward in this room."

There was a long silence. Both Timelords sat opposite each other, one subconsciously tapping his fingers behind his head, the other deep in memories that had remained locked and unspoken of for too many years.

"So what happens now?" ventured the Doctor eventually. The Master frowned.

"Shush, you're spoiling my quiet time."

"Master," said the Doctor more loudly, "what happens now?"

The Master sighed impatiently, pushing himself up onto his elbows with a glare. "Spoilsport." He muttered childishly. His face suddenly shifted into a malicious smirk. "Why on Earth would I want to tell you, and spoil the fun?"

The Master suddenly jumped to his feet, full of manic energy once more, and licked his lips. "Now, as pleasant as this has been… I have people to kill."

The door opened silently at his touch, revealing the empty corridor beyond. In the doorway, he turned back with a wicked grin.

"Sit."

The Doctor frowned up at him.

"Good dog."

Without another word, the Master strode away, the door closing silently behind him, and leaving the Doctor alone with his thoughts. Painful thoughts that hadn't surfaced in so many years.

And not all of them to do with the Time War.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

_Jack watched as the Master left the room, swaggering away along the corridor with that familiar sense of superiority. As the door closed, the scene faded back into nothingness, leaving him and the Doctor stood in a sea of darkness once more._

_ "I thought you said you used to be friends." Said Jack, frowning. The Doctor tilted his head to the side and smiled bitterly. _

_ "Well we were. Once upon a time… we really… really were." The Doctor's voice faded slightly as he spoke and shifted almost uncomfortably. Jack felt something like unease rise in his stomach. He knew that tone too well by now. The Doctor took a sharp inhalation of breath and frowned into space. The next time he spoke, his voice had become hard and distant. "When I told you we were friends it was because you didn't need to know any more than that. I lied, because if I told you two the truth, well…" His voice lowered to a growl and he turned to Jack with a dark glare. "You and Martha would never have looked at me the same way again."_

_ Jack felt his breathing hitch. His frown became even deeper as he struggled to comprehend the Doctor's words. He gritted his teeth._

_ "You can't be serious."_

_ The Doctor stared at him pointedly, and then looked away and shook his head. "It's more complicated than it sounds. But that was a long time ago – lifetimes ago, in fact." He said, but Jack couldn't help but hear something like regret in the Doctor's voice. "But there was something else I lied about. When I told you Timelords can sense each other, that was a lie. Well… not a total lie, but I missed something out. The Master and I, we-"_

_ The Doctor stopped short, tilting his head upwards in the emptiness, studying the empty air as his face flurried through a range of expressions. He seemed to be searching for the right words. "We… like opposite poles of a magnet, we attracted each other. _That's why the Tardis always managed to end up wherever he was; why we ended up at just the right point in time, on exactly the right planet to find him, even when he was tucked away… right at the end of the universe."__

_ Jack looked at him strangely, at a loss for words. The Doctor's face twisted into a painful smile, but he said nothing else. Instead, the nothingness turned into somethingness, and Jack had no choice but to turn and watch the next memory._

Moonlight crept through the tiny window, casting everything it touched in dazzling silver. The Doctor stood, craning his neck to look downwards at the Earth below. The first fires had burnt out days ago, but small patches of smouldering earth still flickered in the silence. Not for the first time, he found himself thinking of Martha, and whether she could still be alive.

Suddenly, the Doctor tensed. "You should be in bed." He said, apparently to himself. "Mrs. Saxon will be wondering where her husband is."

He turned his head just slightly, surveying the shadowed form that stood at the silently closing door. The Master grunted.

"You always were too good at hide and seek. You spoiled my surprise visit."

The Doctor clenched his jaw and turned back towards the window, ignoring the vague whisper of danger that came with the Master's presence. He knew that the other Timelord had come to gloat over his captivity, but showing anything but passiveness would do more harm than good.

After a moment of silence he heard the Master move, and the next moment the other Timelord was beside him, staring out at the sky with a manic smile on his face.

"Beautiful, isn't it? Just imagine how much better it will look when a million rockets fill the air, shooting through the stars to declare war on a million different planets. Oh, Doctor…" his voice was quiet, almost reverent, and yet quivering with excitement. "…what an empire we will create."

The Doctor felt himself shiver. He stared out, a look of disgust on his face.

"So that's what you're planning. That's where this insanity is heading? War, spiralling out across the galaxies… like a wildfire spreading outwards from the Earth."

The Master snorted. "How melodramatic."

The Doctor frowned deeply, still staring out at the sky. "You know I won't let you do this."

The quiet broke suddenly, as the Master threw back his head and burst into mocking laughter. The Doctor backed away.

"Oh… shut up." Snapped the Master, his mood changing as quickly as it ever did. He snorted contemptuously. "Like you can stop me, stuck here in your little white room. It might have escaped your notice, Doctor, but…" He placed a finger to his lips in mock-thought, taking slow steps towards the retreating Timelord. A demonic glint of moonlight caught the Master's eye, "…you are my prisoner."

The Master seemed to pause at his own words. He smiled, and closed his eyes in pleasure. "Oh yes… but that sounds _so_ good!"

Danger flashed in the Doctor's head. He stepped away, trying to put distance between them. If the Master's fury turned on him, there would be nowhere to run, but that wouldn't stop him trying. He stumbled over the chair and fell back into it, keeping his eyes on the other Timelord even as he fell back. He bared his teeth as the Master moved closer, looming over him with a snarl.

"Master, just listen to me." He hissed, "It's not too late. All you have to do is dismantle the paradox machine. You can stop this before it goes too far."

The Master dropped to his knees on the white carpet, the moonlight casting his face in a skull-like shadow. He leaned in close, grinding his teeth. The Doctor could feel his breath brush against his face.

"Wouldn't you just love that." He whispered. "The Doctor, once again saving the pathetic little humans, by taking the nasty madman away."

"You know it's not like that." The Doctor whispered.

For a moment, the Master's face faltered. The Doctor stared into his dark brown eyes and saw hesitation flash behind them. He held his breath, pleading silently that for once, the Master would see reason.

And then the moment was gone. The Master pushed himself upwards onto his feet and turned away, the expression on his face hidden in shadow. The Doctor sighed, staring at the retreating figure with something like regret. He stood up.

"You know, I said we both ran away," The Master snapped, "but I was wrong. I ran away. You never stopped."

The Doctor froze, watching the back of the Master's head in confusion, unsure of how to take the words. The Master snorted in derisive laughter. "And what's funny is that you can't even admit what it is you're running from. It's pathetic."

The Master began pacing, forwards and backwards between the window and the door, his head bowed in thought. His fingertips tapped manically on his shirt. The other Timelord watched apprehensively. It was becoming increasingly clear just how unstable the Master had become since the last time they'd met, and he could almost feel the fury rising up in the other man as he paced, that drumbeat pounding out against his skin.

He took a tentative step forwards. "Master…" he said carefully, "please, just sit down."

The Master continued to pace, tapping out the drumbeat with ever more violent movements. His face pinched up in frustration. "No _you_ sit down!" He snarled. The Doctor raised his eyebrows. "You're so good at avoiding confrontations, Doctor, so just sit there and shut up while I decide how to kill you."

The Master was becoming ever more worked up; more manic by the second, tapping his fingers so hard against his chest now that it was bruising. The Doctor hesitated. He did the only thing he could think of. He stepped forwards and grabbed his arm.

"Stop it." He muttered. The Master halted in his tracks, the physical contact seemed to act like an electric charge, making both men jolt, but the Doctor held his grip firm, watching the Master's confusion with a mixture of anxiousness and concern.

In the light of the moon streaming through the window, the Master and the Doctor looked at each other, standing as if frozen in time as the bodily contact sank in. The Master let a slow, irritated hiss of breath and snatched his arm away, walking to the window. The Doctor sighed and closed his eyes for a moment.

"The drums." The taller Timelord said. It wasn't a question.

The Master's lip twitched upwards in a bitter smile. "Louder, and louder, and louder. Every day, until everything else is just background noise." He narrowed his eyes, frowning out at the sky. "What do they mean?"

The Doctor studied the Master's moonlit reflection. His throat constricted. "I wish I knew."

They fell into silence. The Doctor watched the Master carefully, waiting for this flash of calmness to end, and for the gloating to begin again. He stood against the wall, his fingers twitching where the two had connected. He frowned, pushing away the memories and the regret that leapt up with that touch. Everything was different now, he told himself. There was no going back.

_Jack stared at the silent scene, watching the Doctor's unguarded emotions unfold across his face, betraying what he was normally so careful to keep hidden. As he watched, Jack realised that he was beginning to feel uneasy; nauseous about what he was seeing, and uncertain about what was to come._

"Isn't your wife wondering where you are?" the Doctor forced himself to say, keeping the Master's mind busy before he could fall back into another rage. The Master shrugged.

"Sweet little Lucy…" He smiled slyly. "She's sleeping."

The Doctor watched his expression carefully. "You mean you made her sleep."

The Master's smile widened. "She lets me. She does struggle so with insomnia," he pouted for a second, "poor thing."

"It's funny, I never had you down as the marrying type."

The Master's eyes moved towards the Doctor's reflection, still smiling grotesquely. "…I could say the same for you."

The Doctor felt the words like a knife in the stomach. It was a low blow, but he should have expected it. Nonetheless he refused to allow the Master to see the pain he'd caused. He averted his eyes, folding his arms across his chest defensively and glaring at the wall.

"And there he goes again, still running." Growled the Master. He turned to face the other Timelord. He strode across the room towards him and slammed a hand onto the wall beside his head. The Doctor still refused to make eye contact.

"…running from himself…" he hissed, "…running from his past…"

The Master grabbed his unshaven jaw, forcing the Doctor's face towards him. The Doctor seemed to draw back against the wall, glaring into the Master's hollow eyes as steadily as he could. His fingers twitched subconsciously against the panelled wall.

"…running from me."

It happened in an instant. Like a magnetic pull, the Doctor's eyes lidded, and he lunged forward into an unavoidable kiss.

Something like surprise flashed in the Master's dark, shadowed eyes, but he otherwise made no show of it. He clutched at the Doctor's jaw, forcing his head backwards against the wall, digging his fingers roughly into the skin. The Doctor closed his eyes tightly, clutching at the Master's shirt and pulling him instinctively closer.

He was therefore unable to see as the Master pushed himself forcefully forward and engulfed him in a bruising kiss, that a smirk of vindictive triumph was beginning to spread wide across his face.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The Master's eyes closed, that look of triumph still etched on his manic features. He pressed himself harder against the Doctor, digging his nails into the other Timelord's jaw until he drew blood. Black and sparkling in the moonlight, it trickled down neck and fingers alike. The Doctor made a noise of pain, his eyes screwed tightly shut, and yet he didn't pull away as the Master's fingers clutched harder, his kiss becoming ever more bruising and dominant.

_"Stop!"_

_ Jack shouted, turning his face away with a look of betrayal. The scene paused, etched into the air around them as the Doctor turned, an expression of apology on his face._

_ "I can't watch this."_

_ The Doctor tried to keep his voice level, and yet it still shook._

_ "You've got to. I'm sorry Jack, but you're my last chance."_

_ The captain shook his head a little, then gritted his teeth, turning his back to the scene._

_ "Doctor… that's the _Master_. He…"_

_ The Doctor opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't find the words. He sighed regretfully instead._

_ Jack pointed over his shoulder at the frozen figures behind him. "That man was a murderer and a torturer! People died. _I_ died! Over and over for a whole year… and you were…"_

_ The thought was too much to bear. He swept a hand over his face, as if hoping to wake up from a nightmare, but when he finished the Doctor still stood beside him, watching the disappointment in his eyes._

_ "I'm not perfect, Jack." Said the Timelord suddenly. He raised his eyes to the moonlit ceiling and muttered: "I wish I was; but I've been shown time and time again how far from perfect I am."_

_ The Doctor blew out a long, slow breath, turning back to the scene that disgusted the captain so much. He surveyed his own face: confused and intense; he looked into the Master's and saw the expression of victorious glee. "We had to start somewhere." He muttered, then shook his head. "Maybe it would have been easier to skip this; take you straight to the important points, but I didn't bring you here so I could feel easy." Jack's frown intensified. The Doctor gritted his teeth. "This is where it began. If you don't watch this, there is no way you could possibly understand the rest of what I'm about to show you."  
_

_ "…what about Rose?"_

_ The word made the Doctor's face contort in pain. Jack watched him walk away, towards the window in his memory._

_ "…I lost her." He sighed, "Seems to be a habit of mine lately." He said lowly, mostly to himself. "And I lost _him_, __long, long before this."_

_ Something in the Doctor's voice made Jack feel suddenly ashamed. After all they'd been through, after everything the Doctor had shown him and taught him, he should never have been so accusing. After all: Jack knew all too well how it felt to want the wrong person. _

_ "I get it." He conceded eventually, slowly raising his eyes back to the two kissing Timelords. He couldn't understand it, but he forced himself to accept it even if it made him feel sick. "…But do I have to watch this? You could have told me. I would have understood."_

_ The Doctor's smile turned bitter. He raised his eyebrows. "Would you? Anyway, telling you wouldn't have been enough. I need you to see it – all of it." He sighed. "A whole year's worth of my life that you never saw. Because_ this_ -" he raised a hand towards the scene, then shook his head. "what you're watching is far more complicated than you can even..__." The Doctor trailed off, massaging the back of his neck in anxiety. He needed Jack to understand, but how could he ever explain? "Just watch. Listen. Pay attention. I need your eyes and ears, Jack, even on the bits you don't want to see."  
_

_There was a moment of silence in which Jack tried to wrap his head round the scene before him. The Master and the Doctor... it seemed so surreal. But Jack knew that the Doctor would never have brought him here without a reason. Jack shook his head in confusion. "Can't you just tell me what this is all for?"_

_ The Doctor clamped his jaw. He sniffed._

_ "Soon." He said simply, and the scene jumped back to life._

The Doctor panted for breath, gasping between each attack of the Master's lips on his. There was a moment of surrender, the Doctor's fingers sliding between them and up the Master's chest, his long pale fingers clawing at the skin under his shirt.

And then it ended. The Doctor's eyes opened wide in horror and he pushed him away. The Master stumbled backwards, but kept his balance.

"…What?!" The Master panted impatiently, licking his lips. The Doctor seemed at a loss for words, his brow furrowed as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The Master rolled his eyes.

"Listen to me Master, because this is the only warning you get." Declared the Doctor, the horror and confusion still etched on his face. The Master's face darkened dangerously.

"Oh… the Doctor's giving _warnings_ now. How very noble."

The other Timelord ignored him.

"This is not going to happen. It is _never_ going to happen."

"It already _did_ happen." Hissed the Master. He licked his lip slowly, his teeth bared in a dark smirk.

The words seemed to pound in his head. If the Master understood the significance of what he'd just said, there was no indication on his face. "That ended long ago. Never again." Insisted the Doctor, yet even as he said it he felt the long-familiar pang of loss. The smirk fell from the Master's face.

The Doctor pushed himself away from the wall, shivering as the blood on his neck cooled in the air. He circled the Master slowly, keeping his eyes on him like a wild animal.

The Master stood still for a moment as the Doctor's words began to sink in. His face began to change; his lips pressed together and his brow furrowed in supressed rage.

"Every time!" He roared, grabbing the sterile-white chair and throwing it furiously across the room. It broke apart against the wall, the sharp crack of splintering wood filled the small space, debris flying through the air. A fraction later he turned on the Doctor, grabbing the taller man by the shirt and slamming him painfully into the wall. The Doctor gasped, a shockwave of pain shooting through his back as it hit the wall. He clutched at the Master's gripping hand, trying to pry it free, but the Master was stronger than him; anger only made it worse. "Every time! Even when you're playing the hero, trying to prove how pathetically good you are, you're still a coward!"

The Doctor clamped his jaw, staring down at the livid eyes of the Master; his snarling face so close to his own. He could think of nothing to say in reply: in a sense, everything the Master had said was true.

Cruel, but painfully true.

The Master snorted derisively at his silence, taking it as agreement. "Oh, and suddenly he _shuts up_."

"Master," he breathed, "just stop this. Just think. You don't know what you're doing."

He clutched the Doctor's shirt even more tightly, forcing him to gasp for air.

"I know _exactly_ what I'm doing." He laughed, despite the look of anger still contorting his face. He stared into the struggling face of the Doctor, "You're the one who's confused."

The Doctor felt his head begin to spin, the force of the Master's grip cutting off his air supply. His eyes rolled, arms falling to his sides, unable to continue the struggle. He was at the Master's mercy now, unable to fight back.

Just as the Doctor's eyes began to dim, the pressure on his throat pulled away. He gasped loudly, coughing through the burning in his lungs as he began to slide down the wall in relief. The Master held him up.

"Oh no you don't. Stay where you are, we're not done talking."

The Doctor closed his eyes, breathing in hard, trying to stop his head from spinning. The Master pushed himself hard against him, forcing him back against the wall once more. This time, however, he leaned in to the side, brushing the Doctor's ear with his snarling lips.

"_…You._ Kissed. _M__e._" He whispered loudly, voice shaking in anger. The Doctor felt the words echo around his head, unwilling to admit the truth. He resisted the urge to lean in, his eyes still tightly shut.

"A mistake."

The Master laughed dismissively. "Another lie, oh excellent. You're getting _so_ good at them now. You'll soon be better than me."

The Doctor refused to answer. He felt dizzy; sick to his stomach at what he had done, but at the same time he felt the Master's lips against his ear, the breath on his neck; that magnetic energy that had drawn them together since childhood. The Master remained silent, breathing into the Doctor's ear, his anger all but gone. The beginnings of a smirk twitched at his lips, barely concealed. He closed his eyes as if listening, waiting for something he knew would come.

The Doctor's mind was a flurry of half-understood urges and ideas; the impulse to run and the impulse to give in fighting for supremacy.

The Master growled into the other Timelord's ear. "Give in, Doctor." He urged, the smirk no longer hidden, as if he already knew he had won. "Just once, give in."

That was all it took. The Master held back a barely-contained laugh as the other Timelord made his decision. That connection screamed out in his head; the closeness of the Master's presence after all this time overriding any logical reason to draw back. He tilted his neck with furrowed brow, pulling the Master closer by his shirt.

The Master accepted the invitation gladly. He slid himself furiously between the Doctor's legs and latched his lips onto the other Timelord's neck.


	6. Chapter 5

**Quick note:**

Apologies for this, especially in the middle of a sex scene, but just a couple of points I need to make:

\- Normally I'm not a review whore (Okay, that's a lie), but in all honesty, if you're enjoying the story it would be a great pick-me-up to hear about it. I like to know that what I'm writing is pleasing someone, so if that's you just click the review button? Even a couple of words would give me a buzz.

\- I'm going back to uni on Monday (29/09/14). This means that from Monday onwards, new chapters may be sporadic, or the chapters (even) shorter. Master/Doctor love is time-consuming and tiring. Please don't worry: I won't abandon this. Remember those niggling little worms I talked about before? Yeah, well they won't let me.

That's all. Thanks for reading!

Turkaholic.

**Chapter Five**

The Doctor screwed his eyes shut as the Master's teeth scraped against his skin, pressing himself harder between the taller man's legs. The Doctor could feel the gloating smile pressed bruisingly hard against his collar, but all will to resist had gone. Memories pushed themselves to the front of his mind; memories that he had concealed purpousely in the darkest recesses of his mind for so long. He was vaguely surprised at how easily they came back to him, but before he could even begin to understand, the Master moved.

The Master moved, suddenly grinding his hips forward with an undisguised hiss of enjoyment, biting down harder on the Doctor's skin. The Doctor could barely hold back a groan, shuddering as the Master pressed forward again, unable to stop himself from moving back. He buried his face in the other Timelord's hair, desperate to conserve what little pride he had left.

The Master's tongue slid upwards, following the pounding blood in the Doctor's neck, over his jaw and back to his ear, still grinding roughly against the taller man. Robbed of his hiding place, the Doctor turned his face away, painfully aware of the way his hips moved so perfectly, submitting completely to the Master's rhythm.

"Oh but Doctor you're still holding out on me." Slurred the Master thickly. He grabbed the other man's hips and tugged at them violently, pressing them against his own, his fingers digging in the Doctor's flesh. The Doctor threw back his head and shuddered, biting his tongue to supress a cry. "…I want to hear," hissed the Master, amusement filtering through every syllable, "I want to hear every nasty little noise you make." He laughed breathily in the Doctor's ear. "I remember them well. And… if you won't make them for me…"

He made his point by biting at the other Timelord's ear, pulling it downwards sharply. The Doctor gritted his teeth. His hips jolted towards the Master, his back arching away from the wall. The Master took his earlobe into his mouth, soothing it.

The Doctor felt the drumming of his hearts pounding in his ears. He hissed through bared teeth, still trying to bite back the noises that were rising in his throat; but he knew already that the Master was as good as his word. He did the only thing he could think of: he turned his face towards the Master, opening his eyes long enough to see the smirk fade from the Timelord's lips, replaced with an uncharacteristic look of confusion. A fraction later, he pressed his lips against the Master's.

The Master's entire rhythm changed. Where once his movements had been hard, they became fluid. Not gentle; the Master had never been that, thought the Doctor, but instead of clutching furiously at his hips, the Master now massaged them. Instead of the bruising kiss of before, he simply dominated.

_"…Doctor, am I about to watch you -?"_

_ "Easy, captain." Warned the Doctor, forcing a hint of playfulness into his otherwise serious voice._

_ Jack laughed in spite of his shock. "Believe me, any other partner in that room with you, you might have to tie me down, but…"_

_ He watched the two bodies as they moved together, studying with mixed shock and uncertainty the intense expression on the Master's normally terrifying face. Right now, for all the world he simply looked normal; a normal man, concentrating on the sensations of someone else's body. _

_ The Doctor shook his head sadly, raising his wide eyes to the ceiling. "I wouldn't show you this if it wasn't important." he muttered quietly. "Trust me, Jack - this is one memory I'd rather keep to myself."  
_

_ The captain's mind flashed back to memories of Ianto, and he felt his stomach lurch. He understood._

_ "Then why are we here?"_

_ "…Because," sighed the Doctor, "some things that should be private have to be shown, and some things that should be shown never are."_

There was a dull thud as the Doctor's jacket and shirt fell to the floor behind him. The Master pulled away from the kiss, his eyes glinting in pride as the Doctor let out what he'd expected to be a muffled groan. The Master stood back, watching the other Timelord's hips arch forward instinctively as he did. The Doctor opened his eyes, confused.

"This new regeneration, Doctor…" panted the Master, looking him over. The Doctor rested his head against the wall, his chest heaving as he regained his breath. "So much better than the last time we met. A little on the skinny side, but…" He spread his arms, an appreciative smirk on his face.

The Doctor frowned, suddenly aware again of the situation he had fallen into. He shivered, the air conditioning suddenly cold on his bare skin. He made a movement as if to pick up his shirt. The Master got there first.

"No shirt for you." The Master snapped, standing up with a glare. He threw it across the room. "You're so much more interesting to look at the way you are."

"And what about your wife?" Snapped the Doctor, the loss of physical contact; the loss of that connection bringing back reality. "I'm not sure she'd appreciate it."

The Master began to laugh. The sound rang through the silent room like a gunshot.

"She's a _human_." He said simply, as though that explained it all. "Sweet little Lucy… but their lives are so fragile. So very fleeting. One day soon, she'll be gone, but us-"

The Master moved forwards once again, pressing his chest against the Doctor's. His eyes flashed in the moonlight, the sound of superiority and amusement in his voice. "We survive. Day after day; year after year; regeneration after regeneration, like the endless sound of drums, marching on. And no matter where you run, what face you take…" The Doctor closed his eyes, feeling the connection between them spark back into life as the Master's fingers pressed against his bare stomach. A moment later, he felt the other Timelord's forehead press against his own.

"…You _know_ I'll find you."


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

The Master watched the Doctor's face intently, forehead-to-forehead with the other Timelord just for a moment as he worked at his buttons, and then it was as though a flash of clarity hit him: his eyes widened in confusion and he pulled away, his lip curling into a snarl. The Doctor, however, had his eyes shut, and missed it all.

The taller man knew it was far too late to turn back. The moment he'd kissed the Master, somehow he had known it would lead here, but even so he felt the doubts shouting out in the back of his mind. The Master's fingers at the bottom of his stomach, the sound of his breath, the left over taste of his tongue were heady; intoxicating, but even so he squeezed his eyes shut and opened his mouth to speak, to protest.

It was as though the Master knew. Before the Doctor could find the right words he swept in, latching himself onto the other Timelord's neck like a vampire, biting and sucking at the skin, gliding his tongue over the pounding veins furiously. The Doctor let out a shuddering breath, his neck arching at the sensation, and every thought of resistance vanished. He raised his hands – until now just gripping uncertainly at the wall – and tugged the Master's jacket from his shoulders.

The action caught the shorter man off-guard. He froze, his tongue still pressed against the throbbing veins in the Doctor's neck. He looked up at the side of the other Timelord's face curiously, his fingers ceasing suddenly. The Doctor seemed not to notice. He panted, tilting his neck further, urging the Master onwards as he pulled the jacket down to his elbows.

This happened in a fraction of a second, and was over just as quickly. No matter what ran through the Master's mind at that moment, he adapted fast: the dark smirk of triumph flashed momentarily across his face once more as he buried his face harder in the Doctor's neck, grazing his teeth against flesh. He conceded to pull his hands back from their work, slowly, allowing the other Timelord to slide the jacket off. It fell to the floor behind them, the red silk lining shimmering black in the cold light of the moon.

The Doctor's head spun. He was vaguely aware that he had lost his self-control, and that scared him on a level he didn't even think was still possible, but the feel of the Master's teeth against the most sensitive part of his neck was like a voice whispering in his ear to let go; to submit to instinct. He felt his shaking hands unbuttoning the Master's shirt; felt the Master arch animalistically at the touch. Distantly he could hear his own voice, panting at the teasing flicker of the Master's tongue. Whatever pride he'd hoped to retain was now completely lost. He heard the sound of material slipping against skin. Suddenly he realised he was naked.

The Master's fingers slid down to his hips, grabbing them hard and yanking them forwards. The Doctor's legs parted. He clenched his teeth as the Master forced himself between them, grinding roughly against the naked Doctor. The taller man let out a gasp, grabbing at the Master's half-undone shirt. There was the sound of ripping cloth. The Master stopped.

He pulled himself away from the other man's neck, leaving a bruise where he had bitten down. The Doctor opened his eyes warily. He held his breath.

The Master looked down. The tattered remains of his shirt slid off his shoulders and dropped silently to the floor. He looked back up at the Doctor, a look of amused irritation on his face.

"You just ruined my best shirt."

His fingers dug harder into the Doctor's hips. He spun round, shoving the Doctor towards the bed, who landed with a soft thud. The taller man propped himself up, looking up at the Master in frustration.

The Master stepped close and tutted, a mock-glare on his face. "Control yourself, you _bad_ boy."

"Stop it." Snapped the Doctor, baring his teeth in frustration. The Master raised his eyebrows. "You don't need to act this way."

"But it's so _fun_!" The Master grinned, flashing his teeth. "And seeing you squirm is worth hundreds of years of waiting."

The Doctor clutched at the bedcovers, sitting up fully in front of the Master. He shook his head. "I don't know how much of our past you still remember," He growled, the tone of urgency, or perhaps the words themselves making the Master's face falter just slightly, "but I swear, _everything_ has changed."

The Master's eyes narrowed. A strange spazm seemed to take one side of his face. "Yes." He snapped, an almost accusatory edge to his voice. "It has."

_The Doctor allowed himself a silent sigh at the sound of those words. Jack noticed nothing.  
_

"_I'm_ different."

"Oh yes…" The Master tapped a finger on his own lips theatrically, "I can see that."

"I mean it."

The Master took a step closer to the bed, standing over the other Timelord with a look of disbelief. He leaned down. The Doctor tried to stand his ground, but every instinct of danger, every memory of the Master took precedent. His head twitched just barely backwards; barely even a fraction of a millimetre, but that was all the Master needed. He made a noise of amusement in his throat.

"Obviously not as different as you'd like to think."

The next moment the Master darted forwards, pushing the other man back onto the bed with one hand. The other slid down, unbuttoning his own trousers effortlessly. They slid to the floor as he climbed onto the bed, pushing the Doctor's legs apart to slide between them.

Once again, despite his words, the Doctor had made no attempt to resist.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

The moonlight continued to stream through the tiny window, casting a thin line of brilliant white across the small room. It illuminated the forlorn shape of a splintered chair, abandoned and on its side in the corner. The light glinted off a sheet of thick glass, sunken deep into the wall. The reflection sloped downwards, radiating light on two figures, wrapped together on an unmade bed.

The Master's eyes were closed, his face once again lost in the intensity of the moment. He listened to the breathing of the figure beneath him as they pressed against each other in a slow, grinding rhythm. The Doctor's head tilted backward against the pillows, his eyebrows knotted and his mouth open, each breath more ragged than the last. Thoughtlessly, he slid his hands up the Master's bare back, his neck, and into his hair, clutching handfuls of it and pulling the other Timelord's head close to his chest. He cried out, tugging on the Master's hair. The Master growled.

_The Doctor had averted his eyes from the scene, whether through pain or embarrassment, Jack couldn't tell. The captain swallowed hard, torn between the scene he'd been told to watch, and the actions of the Doctor at his side. Jack had no shame, not normally, but something about the two figures moving on the bed seemed beyond private; beyond sex. There was some other layer to the act that was more than Jack could understand, as the Doctor had predicted. He only hoped that - as the Doctor promised - it would begin to make sense eventually._

"Ow-" came a muffled voice as the Doctor tugged harder at the strands of hair between his fingers. The Master lifted his head, his eyes narrowed. "Hands. _Hands_, Doctor." He snatched at one of the offending wrists, yanking it away. The Doctor's breath hitched at the pause in the rhythm and he opened his eyes slowly. The Master's glare deepened. "Put them somewhere else, or I'll rip them off."

The Doctor pulled his wrist out of the Master's grip, panting through his teeth. He resisted the urge to arch his hips upwards at the loss of contact. "You used to like it." He growled, unable to stop himself. "Or is that what you're afraid of? That you'll like it too much?"

The Master's eye twitched slightly. In one swift movement he slammed a hand across the Doctor's mouth. He raised himself up onto his knees, staring down with a threatening smile.

"One more word like that out of you," He said, his tone a strange mix of threat and play, "and I'll rip your tongue out, too. I've already got a hand of yours somewhere. I could start a collection."

The Doctor glared up and tried to speak. It came out as a muffled moan between the Master's fingers. He pressed down harder, leaning in close. His tongue flicked out thoughtfully.

"I have better things to do with this hand than keep you quiet."

The Doctor's breathing quickened, feeling the bruising pressure of the Master's hand over his face. He tried to keep his gaze steady, devoid of any pain – or lust. The Master was unpredictable, he knew that all too well, and even beyond the instinct he knew that showing either one right now could be dangerous.

The Master, however, knew exactly how to break the stalemate. A sinister smile slid up one side of his face, his eyes lighting up as he moved his free hand downwards, and slid it between the other man's legs.

The Doctor could do nothing but arch his hips upwards at the sudden touch. He groaned through the Master's fingers, his eyes rolling. The Master's half-smile became a fully-fledged smirk. He pulled his hand away from the Doctor's mouth, closing his eyes to listen to the noises the other Timelord made as he pressed the heel of his hand between his legs.

The Doctor reacted to the touches through instinct, rubbing himself against the Master's hand with his back arched away from the bed; his head too full of sensations to even think about the battle he'd just lost. He felt the Master moving, shifting on the bed. It was only when he felt his hips being raised from the bed that he realised what was happening.

His eyes shot open.

"No." He panted. He looked downwards, the reflection of the moonlight dazzling him. He could see the silhouette between his legs stop moving, raising its head to look at him. He didn't know if the Master would understand, and even if he did there was no guarantee that he would listen. He shook his head, unable to form words.

There was an impatient sigh from the other end. He felt himself drop back onto the mattress. The Master turned his head away in irritation.

"Oh, I'm so sorry…" he muttered, his voice thick with bitter sarcasm, "but do you know, when I was designing this room it must have slipped my mind to include a tube of lubricant."

The Doctor's head fell back against the pillows. He sighed in relief and closed his eyes for a moment. The Master slid a knee up between the other's legs, pressing against him: the Master's attempt to keep the Doctor's mind busy. It worked. The taller man let out a shuddering breath and began to move against him.

The Master looked down into the Doctor's face silently for a moment, watching his expression of abandon strangely; thoughtfully, as if deciding which way to proceed. Eventually he pressed his lips together hard and let out a frustrated breath, then raised two fingers to his own lips.

The silence filled the Doctor with a dim sense of danger. He opened his eyes to check where the Master was, and blinked in disbelief at what he was seeing. The Master never flinched from causing pain – the state of the Earth below them stood as testament to that fact – and yet despite the look of ill temper on his face, the Master had conceded. "…What?" He breathed, before he could stop himself.

The Master rolled his eyes and raised his free hand to indicate silence. He pulled his fingers from his mouth with a resounding suck. "Shut up. Actually, no: moan for me a bit more. I'm _busy_."

The Doctor furrowed his brow even further, the look of confusion spreading. He had never expected the other Timelord to concede. The Master pressed his knee harder against the other man's groin and began moving it roughly. The distraction technique worked. The only thing the Doctor could think to do was pant through tightly clenched teeth, arching up from the bed.

Whether that had been the Master's plan or not, he certainly took advantage. He slid his saliva-coated fingers quickly underneath the Doctor's arching hips, biting his curling lip hard in expectation.

Colours flashed before the Doctor's eyes, screwed shut so tightly that they burned. He threw his head back, crying out sharply as he felt the Master's fingers move inside him. He felt almost sick at the sound of his own voice; at the way his body arched higher, reacting to the Master's fingers as they slid deeper.

The thing that made him feel worst of all was that part of him didn't care.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

The Master felt muscles clench around his fingers and closed his eyes momentarily. A thrill seemed to run through him: He let his mouth fall open in a blissful grin, releasing a loud breath.

The Doctor was past questioning his own actions. Every attempt he made to justify this in his head sounded empty. He had maintained almost perfect control for so long; so sure that his defences couldn't fall, and now he'd finally surrendered to the one instinct that he'd tried to block out.

The Master's fingers moved more roughly, the look on his face falling from a grin into an intense - almost darkly affectionate - stare as the Doctor began second by second to become more vocal. He pushed down against the Master's fingers, his hips jerking into thin air; every muscle in his body twitching in reaction to the Master's attention. The Master basked in it like sunlight, tilting his head back to listen to the Doctor's noises with a superior smugness on his face.

"Enough…" hissed the Doctor suddenly. His muscles were burning, shaking through sheer overuse. The Master lowered his head once more to watch his face. "…Enough, pl-"

The Doctor bit down hard on his tongue, stopping himself before he could finish the fatal word. It was too late.

There was a pause. The Master blinked slowly and then raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"What?"

The Doctor's chest rose and fell hard, his hearts beating painfully hard in panic. Whatever else this was, he refused to let the Master get the better of him this way. He opened his eyes wide, staring at the blank ceiling. "Nothing, I said nothing." He blurted, the panic obvious in his voice.

The other Timelord sat still briefly, then moved swiftly up the bed, his fingers still buried inside the Doctor. He sneered sadistically as he moved close to the other man's face.

"…Say it." He snarled. The Doctor turned his face away and clamped his jaw shut pointedly. The Master's eyes flashed. He rammed his fingers even deeper. The Doctor jerked, his face contorted with the effort of trying not to cry out.

"Say it, Doctor." The Master commanded. He curled his fingers upwards and dragged them down. The Doctor's entire body quivered, his teeth showing as his face twisted, but he remained silent. The Master snorted disdainfully. "You know, you were so quick to beg for the lives of your revolting little human friends," he hissed, "it was rather sickening to watch, actually. And look at you now. It's pathetic."

The Master's fingers continued to massage as he spoke, each time more roughly and impatiently than before. The Doctor ground his teeth together in effort, twitching and writhing at the feel of the fingers. Eventually it became too much to bear. The taller Timelord's jaw unclenched. Painfully aware of the Master's eyes on his face, he panted, breathing out the word that had been threatening to explode from him.

The hollow brown eyes of the Master lidded at the sound, letting out a sigh of satisfaction as he slid back. He pulled his fingers back out sharply. The Doctor could only hiss.

For the first time, the Doctor found himself thankful for the small window. The Moon cut a slice across the bed, but his face was cast in shadow. He was glad of it: knowing that the Master could see the embarrassment and self-loathing in his face was more than he thought he could bear. Being held prisoner; being held in a cage so small when he was used to the whole of the universe was bearable. Losing ground to the Master that way wasn't.

A pair of hands placed themselves on his chest suddenly. The sensation made his muscles twitch, as though a spark of electric had run from finger to skin. The fingers dug in and began to claw downwards, over his stomach until they reached his hips. The Timelord felt the Master's warmth against his legs and his hearts began to beat screamingly loud in his ears.

The Master thrust forward with an animalistic grunt. The Doctor cried out sharply at the sudden impact and raised a hand to his own hair, clutching; yanking hard as he felt the Master press himself deep, pulling roughly at his hips as if testing to see how far he could reach. There was a sharp intake of breath as the Master leaned down over the other man, his eyes lidded as he watched the Doctor in interest: He writhed beneath him, clutching at his own hair, his head tilted back. A satisfied smile filtered briefly through the Master's lust, and then he began to move.

The Doctor's body moved on its own, his mind for once blank. It was as though hundreds of years of pain and enmity had simply dissolved into nothing, and nothing had changed at all. He wrapped his legs around the Master's waist, rocking his hips upwards at the other Timelord's rough pace. The long fingers of his free hand slid up the Master's arm and wrapped itself around the back of his neck. Every move of the Master's hips made him moan, unable and no longer willing to stop himself.

The Master's eyes were lidded heavily, but they never once closed, and something strange began to appear in his expression; some strange flicker that seemed at odds with the chaos and insanity that normally boiled inside him. He watched the Doctor throw back his head and moan, his voice shaking, louder and louder with each thrust. Suddenly the Doctor's fingers slid up into his hair, pulling him downwards against his neck.

There was a moment – the briefest moment – of change in the Master's face. A look of unease or even fear lingered there, highlighted by the ever-narrowing ray of moonlight as the Doctor pulled him closer. And then it slid away: The Master's head dived forwards and latched once more onto the already bruised neck, biting into it. The Doctor pulled at the Master's hair. This time there were no words of protest; instead he moaned.

The Master and the Doctor pressed themselves against each other, all concept of winning or losing forgotten as they fell into rhythm, the Master's face buried in the other Timelord's neck, muffling the appreciative noises as the Doctor rocked upwards against him. The Master removed his hands from the Doctor's hips, apparently satisfied that there was no need for them: The Doctor reacted to every change of pace; every shift as if there was some silent understanding, tugging ever harder at the Master's hair as the movement became more intense.

The Master's hands slid up the Doctor's legs, pulling them higher. Suddenly the Doctor's body jolted upwards. He gasped loudly and shuddered. The Master stopped to appreciate the noise.

"Oh I'm _so_ good…" the Master laughed, his voice once again full of sadistic amusement. His voice shaking in the Doctor's ear. "Right first try…"

"…Don't." breathed the other Timelord, barely aware of the fact that he was even speaking. "Just shut up."

The Master's face darkened.

"Bit rich, coming from you." He growled. He pressed forward. The Doctor's hips jolted, but he made no further noise.

There was a moment in which neither of them moved or spoke, the only sounds the heavy, shaking breath of both men. The Doctor felt the instinct to rock upwards against the Master's warmth, but the little self-control he had left held it back.

Eventually the Master grunted in frustration. He snarled in the Doctor's ear. "Fine."

And then he thrust forward.

The Doctor almost screamed; a loud, low, guttural sound that seemed to reverberate around his entire body. The Master's rhythm became almost painfully rough, thrusting against that same spot harder and harder each time; digging his fingers subconsciously into the Doctor's legs. He rested his head under the taller Timelord's chin, his face contorted in mixed pleasure and concentration.

The Doctor could hear himself gasping, the very effort of breathing seemed to make his lungs feel raw and burning. His head swam; the confusion and pleasure seemed to meld together until it simply didn't matter which one was which. All that existed was the Master's clutching fingers, the sound of his voice, the way he moved. The Doctor felt himself begin to shake in earnest, still clutching desperately to the Master's hair in his hand. There was a moment in which he felt himself holding back. He clenched his legs tightly around the Master's waist and arched upwards towards him.

He froze there for a moment, a shockwave of pleasure running through him as he rode out the wave of orgasm. The Master's thrusts came faster and harder than ever, spurred on by the way his back arched, and by the way he felt wet warmth against his stomach. A moment later the Master came; a sharp cry forcing itself between his clenched-shut teeth.

They both collapsed, both gasping for air as the sensations subsided. The Master let himself fall forwards, the thin trickle of moonlight falling diagonally across his sweat-soaked back. The Doctor let go of the Master's hair and his own, his hands falling limply back against the bed. He began to ache.

The Doctor's eyes opened slowly, squinting into the darkness as though waking up, as though pulling himself out of a dream. The Master's stomach twitched against him. He could feel his laboured breaths against his neck. He frowned, waiting for the gloating laugh; the superior, mocking voice that was he was so sure would come any minute now. It didn't.

And yet, as the Doctor began to regain his breath it felt like he was recovering from a fever: he realised how weak he'd been. He'd spent so many centuries avoiding this. He buried his face in the other Timelord's hair in shame.

What he wasn't expecting, however, was the Master to reciprocate. Mind - for once - blank, the Master nudged closer subconsciously, just for a fraction of a second: some left-over instinct from centuries ago.

It meant nothing, he told himself. It had been too long to hope for anything else. That instinct was probably all that was left of what he'd been.

And so the Doctor gritted his teeth and steeled himself, painfully aware that he'd just handed the Master a victory.

**Quick note:**

I always have more difficulty writing scenes like this. I always think realism is important, but too much makes it a bit... un-sexy. At the same time it's hard not to fall into the trap of turning it into a Mills and Boon (look it up) story. It's a difficult tightrope to walk.

It's also hard to get across character traits. The Doctor and the Master are easy to write in conversation, but putting them in a sex scene and trying to be true to character is almost painfully difficult (they're both taciturn and stubborn as hell). I hope, in any case, that they came across well. The target of any fanfiction author should be to represent the characters as carefully and honestly as they can.

See you in the next chapter (and hopefully in the reviews).


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

_"Just for one moment I turned my back on everything I thought I stood for."_

_ Jack's eyes were fixed, unable to move away from the unimaginable image before him: The Doctor and the Master, wrapped together on the bed. He let out a breath, a frown of disbelief shadowing his face. Even so, he knew that his Doctor's eyes were still averted from the scene._

_ "…You had_ one_ moment of weakness," he couldn't believe he was having to defend the Doctor against himself. "It happens." He said, looking at the expression of pain on the memory Doctor's face. "When you live as long as you or me, you're bound to make mistakes. There are a lot of nights I've regretted before they even finished."_

_ There was a pointed silence. Jack tore his eyes away to see a telling look on the Doctor's face. He felt his stomach drop a little. "You didn't regret it, did you?"_

_ The Timelord swallowed, looking away again. "It's… complicated."_

_"Doctor, everything you do is complicated."_

_ The smile fell from his face when the Doctor didn't reply. The two figures on the bed continued to recover in silence._

_ "What do you remember best about Ianto?" Came the Doctor's voice, thoughtfully. Jack held back his pain._

_ "…His eyes." His lips twitched just slightly. "Those stupid, trusting, big eyes."_

_ "Timelords don't remember facial features. We can't; we change so much, so fast. No…" The Doctor sighed, staring distantly at the wall. "We remember souls – if there is such a thing. Essence; the things that make people tick. That never changes."_

_ "…Except?"_

_ "…Except the Master began to lose himself over time." He said, matter-of-factly. "As the madness grew that essence just… slid away… day by day."_

_ Jack gritted his teeth, beginning to understand. "…and you still-?"_

_"I remembered." The Doctor interrupted, his tone simple. He returned his eyes to the scene and fell into silence once more.  
_

The Doctor felt the Master move, sliding away and rolling off him. There was a satisfied smirk across his face.

"…Well." He sighed, slipping his hands behind his head. The Doctor watched him, a look of trepidation in his tired eyes. "…even after all this time; just when I thought you were boring and predictable…" He laughed.

"It won't happen again." Snapped the Doctor, suddenly full of anger. He sat up. The smirk on the Master's face fell into boredom.

"Oh _spare_ me the piety."

"It's true." The Doctor shook his head, moving to the edge of the bed. He snapped his head round to look into the other Timelord's face, eyes wide in earnestness. "You stand for everything that's wrong; everything that's twisted in the universe. I _refuse_ to let you win like this."

There was a silence. The Master nodded, lowering his head as if in acceptance, and then suddenly his face turned sour.

"You want to do this? Right _now_?"

The Doctor stood up, his back turned. The Master snorted, and then bounded off the bed. "Fine." He clapped his hands together and rubbed them. "Look out the window."

The Doctor turned again, confusion on his face. "What?"

The Master pressed his lips together impatiently. "The window, Doctor." He repeated, nodding towards it. "Look out of it."

The Doctor did as he was asked, walking to the window and staring out at the setting moon. The next moment, he felt the Master leaning over his shoulder. A Toclafane flitted past the Valiant, flickering with light.

"Right now," whispered the Master into his ear, "the people of this paltry little world are looking up into the sky, cowering in their filthy herds like cattle, and wondering whether their lives will be spared… by _me."_

The Doctor's eyes widened sadly; guiltily.

"Right now," he continued, a manic glint entering his eye, "a little lost girl walks the Earth, with nothing to protect her but a piddling perception filter. The only thing between her and death is time." The Master leaned in close now, his lips brushing the Doctor's ear, a sneer on his face.

"Right _now_," He hissed, "you're trapped in a room, made precisely to keep you safe and sound, out of my way, with no way to escape, even if you regenerate."

The Doctor stared out into the black sky, his jaw clenched in pain. The Master pulled away. There was the rustle of clothing as the Master began to dress. He sneered, a vicious edge to his voice. "So tell me, _Doctor…_ what is it about this situation that makes you think I haven't _already_ won?"

Even as the Doctor stood there, staring at the sky and the flicker of fires far below, he felt the presence of the Master fade. A moment later, he was sure he had gone.


	11. Interlude

**Interlude**

"Feeling any better?"

Jack sat on the steps inside the Tardis, feeling the hum of energy through the wire mesh. He clutched a mug between his thick fingers, watching the steam float upwards, evaporating into the air.

"I've felt better. Then again, I've felt a hell of a lot worse." The Doctor sat down beside him and folded his arms across his knees. Jack looked down at the cup in his hands and chuckled. "You know, we go into your memories, watch people die, watch the world pretty much end, and then we sit down and have tea." He raised his mug and took a sip. "How very British."

He avoided mentioning the scene they had just watched. The Doctor had been silent on the subject, and Jack thought it best to follow suit.

"Good point." Said the Doctor with a smile, "They must be rubbing off on me."

The Tardis hissed around them quietly as the two men sat, facing the white wooden doors that led out into the Doctor's memories. Jack nodded towards them. "So is there much more for me to look at?"

The Doctor sniffed. "'Fraid so."

"And is there any chance you're gonna tell me why we're watching this?" The Doctor rested his head on his knees and pouted thoughtfully. Jack raised his eyebrows. "Thought not."

"Right now all I need you to do is watch. Watch and listen, and remember. But-" The Doctor's voice suddenly changed to a lighter tone and he stood, "right now the best thing you can do is get rid of that hangover. It's been hours, how long were you drinking for?"

Jack shrugged. "I dunno… maybe two… three months?"

"One day, you're going to be very old and wise. Right now you've only got the first half right."

"Hey!" Jack stood up, laughing. The Doctor smirked, making his way back to the control panel. The captain drained his mug and placed it on the console.

"Oi." Shouted the Doctor. He waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the mug. "You stain her, Jack Harkness, you can clean her."

Jack picked the mug up and began walking away. "Whoops, sorry. Didn't realise you were so house proud."

He turned and made his way to the corridor. The Doctor turned to watch.

"Three hours, understand? Three hours to sleep this off, and we're back in there."

"Got it." Came the reply. The captain waved his hand as he disappeared deeper into the Tardis.

The Doctor looked into one of the display screens, a frown of concentration on his face. Suddenly he screwed his face up and doubled over, clutching his stomach in silent pain.

"Just a bit longer." He whispered into thin air, and forced himself to stand upright again, as if it had never happened.


	12. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"Good morning, you miserable hoard of brainless monkeys."

The Doctor blinked his eyes open slowly at the sound of the Master's arrogant voice. It took a moment for the noise to process inside his head, mingling with the heavy sleep and aches that racked his whole body. And then he felt the hairs stand up on his neck.

"Oh and what a glorious morning this is: Your lord and Master looking down on each and every one of you from on high –"

The Doctor sat upright, suddenly, memories flashing into his head. The guilt that weighed on him forced out a laboured breath, and he stared up into the eyes of the man he least wanted to see.

The image on the screen above him crackled and shook, as though it were being broadcast through a heavy storm, but there was no mistaking that winning smile, white teeth glinting as he spread his arms out towards the camera. The Master was speaking to his people. All of them. The Doctor's stomach turned. He was beginning to understand why the screen had been installed.

"-my sweet little friends? Those of you who have are probably dead." There was a pause as the Master walked uncomfortably close to the camera and stared into it with a snarl, "…no point talking to you then, is there?"

The Doctor swallowed and pulled back the covers, sliding out of the bed without a thought for his pain. Despite the grief that was building inside him at the Master's face, he found he couldn't look away.

"For those of you who are left," the Master continued brusquely, backing away from the camera, "for once, this stagnant cesspool of a planet… will work."

As the Doctor's shock subsided he began to take more of the picture in, seeing past the interference as best he could. The Master had always had a taste for grandeur; for spectacle, and even in such poor quality, even the Doctor had to admit that it showed. The scene was chilling, down to its finest detail.

The Master stood on the bridge of the Valiant, the windows behind him displaying a vista of stormclouds as far as the eye could see. Toclafane spun glittering through the air in vast droves, swooping towards the Earth below. And there stood Lucy, dressed in ominous red, her face full of that same grand pride she had shown the day the Toclafane had come.

The Master reached into his jacket, pulling out his screwdriver. He pointed it at the camera with a flourish. A moment later the picture seemed to change, the image on board the Valiant overlaid with slowly scrolling words in thin, bright red. The Doctor narrowed his eyes to read. He muttered them out loud to himself:

"…Tokyo, London, Lisbon, New York…" His voice shook with confusion and worry. He knotted his eyebrows, "What's he doing?"

Names continued to roll across the screen, the list of cities apparently endless as the Master smiled with false benevolence into the camera. "Every single one of you will report to one of these -" he stopped himself and laughed derisively, "pathetic excuses for civilization within the next 72 hours, to take your place in my new regime. Today begins a brand new empire, and each of you will play your part."

The Doctor's breath came out in bursts, each one brought with it a new thought, wrapped in pain. The Earth was broken; Jack and Martha were all but lost, and the memories of what he had done last night – with the single person who had caused so much pain – was enough to make him feel dizzy with self-loathing. Yet he stood rooted to the floor, unable for a moment to drag his eyes away.

"Now get running, you little beasts!" The Master's eyes were full of laughter as he shouted, whipping a hand through the air in front of him. The sound of his voice seemed tinny and distorted through the transmission. Behind him, Lucy tilted back her head and laughed childishly. "Not much time, so shoo!"

The Master took one last elated look at the camera and began to walk out of shot. A second later he paused, turned, and came close once more. The Doctor took a step back out of instinct.

"Oh… and – Miss Jones." The Master's tone was quiet; dark; almost a whisper. A snarl of malice contorted his face. The words made the Doctor's breath catch in his throat. "In memory of so many wonderful memories together, I offer you this choice: surrender, and you can die painlessly." He paused for effect and leaned even closer, throwing the sinister glare on his face into sharp relief. "Fail to do so… and well…" The Master looked down with a thoughtful frown and bit his lip, then raised his eyes slowly back to the screen, "let's just say you'll need a bit more medical training before I can describe what will happen to you.

Now…" He stood back and raised an eyebrow, "if you don't mind, I have an appointment with my doctor."

The Master strode off camera and the transmission began to fade. The last image was of Lucy. The childish pride had faded from her face and she suddenly looked confused, watching her husband walk away, out of shot. She opened her mouth to call after him, and then the screen faded back into black silence.


	13. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

The Doctor backed away from the pane of hardened glass, newly forged panic rising in his chest. The way the Master had said his name…

When the Master had left, leaving him in the fading moonlight last night, he'd felt numb; confused by what he'd done. He'd stayed staring out of the window, watching the stars. He couldn't remember how he'd gotten into bed, and at all times he'd felt the Master's presence, like a whisper, a painful temptation in his ear.

The Doctor pulled on his clothes, feeling the bruises and marks on his neck, the ache in his hips: physical proof that last night had happened. The Master was coming. Or had it just been a threat? A message to Martha, still wandering somewhere on the Earth below? The now familiar pang of guilt stabbed through him like a dagger.

_"It's weird…" Said Jack, "I've fought Daleks at your side. We've seen the whole universe go to hell – more than once. I've seen you scared." He spoke quietly, watching as the memory showed the Doctor pulling on his shirt. "I've never seen you as frightened as this."_

_Jack's Doctor took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully. "Well… fear's subjective, Jack. You get stung by a wasp a few times when you're young, and that fear grows. You grow up, you become an adult… and then you hear that buzzing in your ear, and it all comes flooding back."_

_ Jack thought silently for a moment, and then shook his head doubtfully. "I still don't get it. _Daleks, _Doctor: when I was a kid, even though I'd never seen one – didn't even know if they existed – just the name filled me with dread. And-" he raised a hand towards the Doctor in the memory "you were scared of what? Your ex?"_

_ The Doctor stared at his previous self, darkly. "Oh the Master was way more than that." He muttered, almost to himself, then blew out a breath. "Besides, it wasn't him I was afraid of."_

_ Jack stepped closer to the Doctor curiously, almost too afraid to ask. The Timelord kept his eyes on the scene. Jack got the impression that he was ashamed. "There was a time I would have ripped a hole in the universe for that man." Said the Doctor heavily. A strange flicker of sadness entered into his eyes as he watched himself, and then he tilted his head towards Jack momentarily. "I was scared of myself." _

He sat down on the edge of the bed, and rested his hands on his knees, clenching his fists. The transmission gave him clarity: He'd been stuck in this cage for too long, cut off from the reality down on the surface. He frowned, staring vacantly at the shards of splintered wood that lay across the floor.

He felt rather than saw the door open. The taste of fresh air hung tantalisingly, and then faded away. The Doctor didn't raise his eyes; he already knew what was there.

"Ooh look at that," came the Master's voice, soft and arrogant. "Awake _and _dressed… you needn't have bothered with the second one, really." The Doctor continued to frown into space. "I hope I didn't wake you with my little bit of theatre. It's just…" the Master tilted his head back and laughed, closing his eyes in enjoyment, "how could I resist? All those little Earthlings, so stupid and so obedient. No wonder you _love_ this planet."

There was silence. The Master turned to look at the Doctor's face with a pout.

"…I've not broken you already, have I?" He sat down on the bed beside the other Timelord, leaning in to look at his face. "That wasn't meant to happen yet. I wrote out a schedule and everything."

Still more silence. The Master raised an eyebrow impatiently, poking the Doctor in the shoulder to check for a reaction. He rolled his eyes, then leaned into the other man's ear and whispered. "Is there anybody in there?"

The Doctor felt the Master's breath on his ear and supressed a shudder. He stood up suddenly, leaving The Master to prop himself up as the other Timelord finally turned and made eye contact.

"There we go," the Master patronised, a dark smirk spreading across his face at the anger in the other man's eyes. "Feeling a little rough this morning, are we Doctor?"

The Doctor's brow furrowed deeper as the Master sat on the edge of the bed below him, his eyes filled with a sinister light.

"Get out."

"Oh, how rude."

"I mean it, Master." Growled the Doctor, his anger fuelled by the Master's smugness, and the memories of last night. "I saw that transmission. Three days? You've given those people down there three days to submit or die."

The Master threw his head back blissfully. "I love it when you say it like that."

"People are going to die just because you said so. Just on a whim. Nothing you can do or say will ever make that ok with me!"

The Master's blissful grin faded. "You didn't seem too worried about them last night."

The Doctor looked away and shook his head. There was just the briefest of pauses. "This has nothing to do with that." He heard the Master grunt in amusement.

"Of course not." He whispered. The Doctor turned away with a forceful sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to put words to the sheer frustration inside. "You're sulking. Good. You always did look better that way."

"Stop it."

The Master raised his head, his eyes wide. "Make me."

"I said stop!"

The Doctor bared his teeth in anger, spinning around to look the Master in the eye. The Timelord on the bed stared back. Something seemed to flicker in him as the shout echoed around the almost empty room. He looked away, irritated.

The Doctor panted, forcing the breath through between his teeth as the room darkened: the Valiant was slowly becoming engulfed in the dark clouds the Master had used as a backdrop for his own vanity. The rumble of thunder passed through the air.

"You can't do this to these people. You've travelled, you know how far they can go-"

The Master made a noise of disgust in the back of his throat. The Doctor ignored it.

"- How much they could achieve. Let this go."

The Master shot to his feet, laughing bitterly. "What is with this obsession?" He shouted, raising his arms. "You and these worthless lumps of flesh! It's becoming _boring._"

"Then just listen to me and I'll stop."

The two Timelords stood face-to-face. The Doctor felt the closeness like an almost physical touch, but pushed the whispering voice to the back of his mind. There were more important things at stake. There always had been, but seeing the Master speak to the Earth had made it real.

"Oh, and here it comes." Breathed the Master. He gave a taut-lipped sneer. "The sanctimonious Doctor: so angry, so desperate to save because he killed so many."

The Doctor lost his fire in an instant. The burning anger that had filled him before seemed to die in his throat, blanketed by a sudden tidal wave of guilt. The Master watched the pain he had caused like a curious child.

"You know…" he whispered. He was barely an inch away from the other man's face, "you never did answer my question that day. How did it feel to hold so many millions of lives in your hands… and crush them?"

The Doctor felt a lump rise in his throat. His eyes glazed over, fully aware that the Master would see the tears rising in his eyes. He expected the Master to gloat; to laugh in his face. Instead, the other Timelord's face fell into a frown of concentration. He seemed to hold his breath.

"…It hurt."

There didn't seem to be a point in avoiding the question this time. "It still hurts."

The Master let out a slow breath and closed his eyes. A soft, knowing smile emerged. "Of course it does."

The storm grew louder outside. The rumble shook the thick walls of the Valiant and the ground beneath their feet.

The Doctor's voice lowered into a confiding whisper. "That's why this has to stop. This doesn't have to be Gallifrey, it doesn't have to burn."

Slowly the Master opened his eyes. He frowned in confusion and turned away. Walking to the window, he placed his arm on the windowsill and stared out. The Doctor pressed his advantage. "Please. Just think about what it is that you're doing."

The Master's eyes narrowed as he looked out into the swirling black that now surrounded the Valiant. Raindrops began to fleck the glass. He arched his fingers and began to tap; slowly, rhythmically.

"I remember… I was there at the first the approach of the Dalek fleet outside the Citadel. So many ships, they blocked out the sky…"

The Doctor felt his chest constrict. He frowned deeply and swallowed. "I know."

"…and even when the air around me was filled with screaming," he continued quietly, as if the Doctor had never spoken, "all I could hear… was the sound of drums. Over, and over, and over…" the Master's voice diminished to a whisper and he tilted back his head as he listened to the noiseless rhythm inside his mind. His fingers ceased. "Oh, just listen Doctor…" he whispered reverently, "can't you even _sense_ it?"

The Doctor held back the pain; the memories that had burned inescapably into his head so long ago, and knotted his eyebrows. "I'm sorry, it's just a figment of your imagination."

_The Doctor closed his eyes in regret as he heard his own voice say those fateful words. How could he have been so wrong?_

The Master snorted and looked over his shoulder, a sarcastic look in his eyes. "Is that your medical opinion, Doctor?"

"Just a fact." He muttered. The Master looked away, disappointed and frustrated, and then moved away from the window. The Doctor watched the other man carefully as he began to pace slowly, back and forth across the whole of the room. He seemed to be thinking, his face heavy with a frown.

The Doctor watched him and sighed. "Master please. I could help you."

_Jack looked at the Doctor in the memory and folded his arms, examining the expression on his face in confusion. Even as the Master paced in front of him, distracted, Jack could see something hidden in the Doctor's eyes - some sense of loss or regret that he was trying hard to conceal._

The other Timelord stopped. He turned back towards the Doctor and came face-to-face once more. "If this is just – what did you call it – a figment of my imagination?" He hissed, just a hint of irritation in his voice. "Then explain this:" He leaned up to the other Timelord's ear and rested his forehead against the Doctor's temple. Both of them closed their eyes out of instinct. The Master brushed his head animalistically against the other Timelord. The Doctor followed the instinct to lean in towards it.

"…why do they fade when I'm inside you?"


	14. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

"Explain that to me, Doctor."

The taller Timelord felt the words creep into his ear and slither through his head, filling it with ideas that didn't seem to belong to him. He seemed to sit deep inside himself, full of anger and confusion, and feel as his head moved closer to the source of the sound, towards the Master's voice, and the connection between them became too strong to ignore.

The Master's face moved closer to his own, his forehead pressed close against the other man's skin and his eyes still tightly closed. The Doctor felt his hearts skip, partly in fear, partly in reluctant excitement as he started, slowly, to turn his head.

"Harry?"

Before the Doctor could even register the voice, the Master had pulled away and stood back, looking towards the door. The Doctor forced his eyes open.

Lucy Saxon stood in the doorway, leaning forwards in that childish way. She had a look of confusion on her face; a face that the Doctor noticed – as he began to regain some sense of reality – had grown even paler since he had last seen her. Even so, there was something uncannily like the Master's own insanity that lingered somewhere deep behind her eyes.

"And here she is, the beautiful Mrs Saxon."

The Doctor watched as the Master walked forwards to meet his wife. Lucy smiled as he took her chin between his fingers, raising her face to gaze into his with a vain smirk. The look of confusion still furrowed her brow. The Timelord leaned in. "I told you not to come here."

Lucy glanced at the Doctor nervously, and then back to her husband, parting her blood-red lips. "I'm sorry, Harry… I just - I wanted to spend some time with you."

The Doctor looked away from the scene and narrowed his eyes at the window, sliding his hands into his pockets. He heard the Master laugh.

"Oh, so sweet. The perfect wife – isn't she, Doctor?"

The Doctor didn't reply. The Master had slipped back into his manic self, mocking him. He shivered. He had been so close to falling again…

The Master tutted at his silence, turning back to his wife with a smile. "Don't worry about him." He leaned in to her ear and whispered, "He's sulking."

Lucy laughed silently.

A flash of lightning lit up the room. The Doctor saw his own reflection for a moment. Behind him, he saw the Master lean down to kiss his wife. His throat tightened.

There was silence for a moment. The Master tilted Lucy's head backwards in a kiss that was obviously meant for show, and then wrapped an arm around her waist. She leaned in to rest against his shoulder, placing a hand on his chest.

"Let's go."

He began to walk away through the open door, Lucy hanging off his shoulder with a look of adoration in her face. Before he left he paused and turned back to the other Timelord. He raised an eyebrow. "Oh and I almost forgot: I have some homework for you, Doctor."

The Doctor didn't turn. He raised his eyes to the ceiling and clamped his jaw.

"…The Toclafane," he continued, "You asked me what they were. Well I don't want to spoil the surprise, but…" his face turned to an amused snarl, "let's just say – you know them oh so well."

The door slid shut as the Master walked away, Lucy swaying at his side, leaving his words hanging in the air. A thunderclap shook the Valiant as a look of terrible realisation slid across the Doctor's face.


	15. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

_The Doctor stared into his own face, watching the expression fall. He felt a lump rise in his throat. There was a final rumble of thunder reflected in his eyes, and then the image faded into darkness once more._

_ Jack stayed silent, watching the Doctor with his own expression of pain. He could never even contemplate the amount humanity meant to the Timelord, but he knew the realisation of what the Toclafane were must have taken the Doctor to the edge of breaking point._

_ The Doctor folded his arms across his chest and dragged his eyes away from the nothingness where his former self had stood. He looked into Jack's face intensely for a moment, and then seemed to master his emotions._

_ "Now," He said suddenly, forcing a smile, "How's that hangover doing?"_

_ The captain continued to stare, unable to pull himself out of his thoughts as easily as the Doctor. The Timelord's smile faltered just slightly, but otherwise he stayed his ground. Jack raised an eyebrow cautiously. "You okay?"_

_ "Fine." Came the reply, a little too quickly. He sniffed and looked away. "More to the point – how are you even still standing after all this? I was expecting…" he blew out a breath thoughtfully. "I dunno."_

_ For once, Jack actually understood the Doctor's meaning. He smiled and opened his arms passively. "If you were expecting me to hate you, you really don't get me at all." The Doctor turned back towards him with an odd look in his eye. After a moment, Jack realised it was doubt. He sighed. "Look," He continued reluctantly, "I'm not saying that I think this is all okay, because it wasn't; The Master was…" Jack hesitated. There wasn't even a word for what he wanted to say. The Doctor's eyes glanced downwards guiltily in the silence. "-but whether you like it or not, Doctor, I know you. I've seen you at your best, and whatever the hell you did that year can't change that."_

_ Jack felt frustration rising as he struggled to make the Doctor understand. He snorted. "I was a con man before I met you! Just a guy looking to get rich, and it didn't even matter if anyone got hurt along the way."_

_ The Doctor smirked weakly at the memory. "Not a very good one, as I remember."_

_ "Hey it's not my fault if you came in and decided to ruin a perfectly good scam."_

_ The Timelord raised his eyebrows sarcastically._

_ "Okay," admitted Jack, "That last one went a little astray, but even so it was a workable idea. Anyway the point is…" he paused for a moment, "…You made me a better person."_

_ He watched as the Doctor's smile turned into a wide-eyed frown._

_ "…Moving on." He finally replied, looking away into darkness. Jack sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Arguing was never a good idea with the Doctor, but he'd never realised before just how little the Timelord thought of himself. "We're skipping forwards – about a week or so."_

_ "Why?"_

_The Doctor slid his hands into his pockets and hesitated._

_ "Because I fell apart, Jack." He sighed eventually. "The Master always knew how manipulate people, including me – especially me, in a way. He knew I had a soft spot for you lot, and telling me what the Toclafane were – well – that was about as cruel as you can get." _

_ Jack swallowed and nodded. "You gave up."_

_ The Doctor wrinkled his nose. "Well… no. But it hurt. Place that on top of everything that had happened so far and I was a wreck." He lowered his voice and muttered: "There was just one thing that stopped me going mad."_

_ Jack raised an eyebrow. "What?"_

_ The Doctor tilted his head to the side, looking at Jack through bangs of hair seriously for a moment. He started to smile, wider and wider until it became a fully fledged grin. "Oh, you and Martha. Knowing you were out there, still fighting-"_

_ "Or dying, in my case."_

_ "Dying, yes, but still alive. It was enough to give me hope."_

_ Jack mirrored the Doctor's grin just for a moment, but it was short-lived. He looked down in thought. "…And the Master?"_

_ The Doctor's grin faded into a grimace, slowly. "He left me alone." The sentence seemed more borne out of pain than relief. He turned away, hiding his face from Jack's view. "Ten days, locked in that room… just me and my thoughts."_

_ Jack nodded again, understanding. He'd experienced something similar – maybe worse – at the hands of his own brother; but this moment wasn't about him. Self-centred as he could be, Jack knew this wasn't a moment to bring it up._

_ "So-" Began the Doctor in a stronger voice, lifting his eyes as the darkness brightened once more. "Ten days later then."_


	16. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

_"All the time I was left alone in that room, I could feel the Master; like a finger on the back of my neck. Sometimes it felt so far away I could barely feel it, but sometimes it pressed so hard that I was sure he was just outside the door, listening. It was maddening. On some level I think I wanted that door to open; for him to come back so that I could pour all my rage and grief into him." The Doctor bared his teeth, as if remembering the pain. Jack frowned. "Sometimes I even stared at the screen, just waiting for another transmission; for the sound of someone else's voice except my own. In the end it was... too much. The Toclafane, the Master... the Earth..." He tilted his head to the side, glancing at Jack. "...worrying about you and Martha."  
_

_ Jack's face softened a fraction at the sentiment, but before he could say anything the scene began to lighten, and the Valiant shimmered into reality around them._

The Doctor sat underneath the window, his back pressed up against the wall as he stared at the door, his chest heaving with some sort of internal struggle. The hum of the air conditioning filled the room; the white noise of it filling the Doctor's head. He clutched at the carpet with his fingertips as if holding on for dear life.

Moments passed, the Doctor's face vacant even as his chest heaved. His eyes were wide, his brow knotted, deep in thoughts of another time; another place. Anywhere was better than here.

The door began to slide open. The Doctor's expression remained the same, the breeze from somewhere beyond moving his hair. A suited figure stepped in, the door closing silently behind him. The breeze died.

"Doctor."

The Timelord on the floor stared through the man who began to step towards him, too full of his own thoughts and memories to even realise who stood before him.

The gaze of the Master fell on him. The Timelord closed his eyes slowly in the silence and smiled. "Nothing to say." An eyebrow twitched upwards "That's new."

He stood and contemplated the figure before him thoughtfully, then seated himself slowly on the bed.

"You know, I hadn't planned to leave you this long. But Lucy –" he laughed. "I don't know what it is about me. Is it my charm? The fact that I took her to the end of time to see the end of her beloved human race? I don't know. Tell me, Doctor," his smile turned into a sneer. "are all human women this needy? From what I remember, _you've_ had your share."

The Doctor sighed, still staring straight ahead. The sneer fell from the Master's face and he made an impatient noise in the back of his throat. "Doctor..."

The Timelord on the floor gritted his teeth at the name. He closed his eyes. The Master pouted irritably and averted his eyes, narrowing them at the window. "You know this part was meant to be more fun. I had it all planned out in my head." He raised a finger to his temple. "You were at least still meant to be able to talk!"

The Master looked down at the Doctor once more and something strange began to flicker at the back of his eyes. A moment later, he slid off the edge of the bed, onto his knees. "The Toclafane." The Master pressed. He raised his eyebrows, watching for a reaction in the Doctor's face. "You worked it out, didn't you? You always were so very clever."

The lack of reply was enough of an answer as the Master needed. "You always had a thing for them, didn't you?" He whispered, eyes flickering intensely. "There's no point putting your faith in these useless apes;" He raised a hand to the Doctor's chest, "And now look what they've done: they've broken your hearts."

There was a moment of silence. The Master now frowned deeply, looking almost desperate in his search for some reaction.

_Jack looked into the Master's face, feeling far too uncomfortable watching the Doctor's distant gaze. He had always thought of the Doctor fighting; always fighting, but this was a rare moment of weakness he didn't feel he wanted to watch. The Master, too, was confusing. Where just a moment ago, he had seemed so happy with the result of his cruelty, there was something troubling in the way he frowned, his hand almost comfortingly against the Doctor's chest._

_"I don't get it." He whispered to himself. The Doctor's eyes flicked towards him._

_"I don't really remember this part." He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "But for what it's worth, I'm not sure even the Master understood."_

The Master leaned forwards, resting his forehead against the Doctor's. He closed his eyes momentarily and sighed, clenching his jaw. A vein began to throb in his neck and slowly his face began to contort.

"NO YOU DON'T!"

The Master's face turned red in anger. He jumped back onto his feet and grabbed one of the Doctor's hands, tugging him reluctantly up to his feet. Without waiting for him to gain his balance he dragged him away, but not towards the door.

He threw the bathroom door open and dragged the Doctor through, his face still screwed up in frustration and rage. He threw him onto the floor of the shower and flicked it on, the water freezing cold.

The water hit the Doctor's face with a heavy thud. It was a crude resolution, but it was enough. The Doctor gasped, arching away from the icy feel on his face and scrabbled for dry land, coughing. The Master sighed forcefully at the reaction and dragged him bodily out, ignoring the cold water as it soaked into his clothes; his skin.

The Doctor coughed, accepting the Master's help thoughtlessly as the shock sank in. He clutched at the warm skin as he felt himself dragged roughly across the floor to sit against the blank white wall.

"Welcome back, Doctor." Snapped the Master, furiously. He crouched between the Doctor's legs, glaring at him as though everything had been his fault. "You can't escape from me that easily."

** Quick note: **It has taken me all damn day to do this chapter. I've rewritten it at least seven times in order to get the characters emotionally into the right place for what comes next.

I'm going to go and have a nervous breakdown now.

Turkaholic.


	17. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

The Master's head was bowed, watching the Doctor with a dark and furious glare as the other Timelord spluttered and shook back into reality. The Doctor winced as the freezing water ran into his eyes. He gasped.

"What did you do that for?" he blurted eventually, teeth chattering and a reproachful look on his wide-eyed face. The Master bowed his head further and snorted in laughter, then looked back into the Doctor's face irritably.

"You snapped." He spoke slowly. His eyes narrowed. "_You_ don't get to do that."

The Doctor rested his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, still shuddering as the freezing water soaked into his skin, and memories of the last ten days began to sink back in. The Toclafane; the terrible truth came back to him like a half-forgotten nightmare.

The Master watched carefully, his eyes never leaving the Doctor's face, taking in every twitch and shudder. Eventually he rose back to his feet. After watching the other Timelord for a few more seconds he looked away and held down his hand. "Get up. You look ridiculous."

The Doctor hesitated. He opened his water-blinded eyes and looked at the hand blankly. The Master's lip twitched downwards.

"Get up, Doctor, before I drag you up."

The Doctor reluctantly raised a wet hand and placed it in the Master's. Fingers tightened around his wrist and he found himself being raised slowly; carefully to his feet. The Master's fingers didn't let go.

The Doctor was too cold; too wet and shocked to even question the other Timelord's actions. All he felt was the warmth around his wrist and the sense of the Master's presence so close. After so many days alone, even though every logical thought in his head told him to walk away, the Master's presence – their connection – seemed disturbingly comforting.

The Master pulled him upright and looked into his face curiously, a mix of irritation and concern. The Doctor's teeth chattered. His hand shook in the Master's grasp.

"Is that brain of yours functioning now?"

The Doctor shuddered, staring back into the Master's face with a frown. "…towel." He breathed, voice shaking. The other Timelord raised an eyebrow as a smirk slid up one side of his face.

"…apparently so."

The Master shoved him back against the blank wall and let go of his wrist, leaving him something to lean against as he reached for a towel. As soon as he turned away the expression on his face changed completely: The half-smirk faded into confusion and he swallowed hard, as if forcing some emotion back. The Doctor – still shivering – remained oblivious to all.

"There-" The Master threw a soft white towel across the room at him. The Doctor, still in shock, wasn't ready for it. It fell to the floor with a thump. The Master sighed dramatically. "Oh come on!" He shouted, spreading his arms wide. "You're in shock, not a vegetable."

"You're not the one _freezing_." Defended the Doctor, forcing the words between his teeth.

The Master snarled. "You want me to dry you off, too?" He said distastefully and leaned down, snatching the towel from off the floor. He pressed it into the Doctor's chest furiously and held it there.

_The scene seemed to freeze. For a moment, Jack thought that the Doctor at his side had caused the memory to stop, and he tilted his head, waiting for the Timelord to speak. He didn't. Jack realised the Doctor was still watching, holding his breath; waiting._

Something seemed to pass between the two men; something unspoken, unplanned, but simultaneous. The Doctor felt the warmth of the Master's fingers pressed against his shirt. The Master's brow furrowed into an intense stare.

The towel fell from the Master's hand and slithered to the floor.

In unison, both Timelords leaned forwards, pressing their foreheads together furiously. Both screwed their eyes shut at the contact, the Doctor letting out a shaking breath as the Master's fingers dragged themselves up his shirt and up around the back of his dripping neck, pulling his head harder against his own, as if trying desperately to merge them into one. The Master tilted his head animalistically as the Doctor found himself doing the same.

The Master moved, trampling the long-forgotten towel as he nudged the Doctor's legs apart, acting on the instinct to move closer. Whatever doubts had been in the Doctor's head just a moment ago seemed to flee. Memories of a time long before this came forward instead, and he tilted his head to the side, pressing his lips against the other Timelord's, hard.

The Master reacted without question. He caught the Doctor's lips and pushed him back, taking control. This time, the Doctor made no attempt to fight it.


	18. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

The Master made a noise in the back of his throat; a feral growl as he pushed himself furiously against the Doctor, pressing the taller Timelord into the cold white wall. The Doctor felt the freezing water trickle down his back, but found that it no longer held a sting. He was acting on instinct now, the reasons no longer mattered: shock or lust; love, comfort or connection made no difference. All that seemed to exist was him and the Master, their bodies moving in almost perfect unison as though in a long-rehearsed dance. The idea of captive and captor seemed to lose any meaning, and the Doctor threw himself into the kiss, vying with the Master's demanding lips for control.

The Master's expression was one of deep concentration, for once his features not contorted in manic glee or anger. He pulled the Doctor backwards by the hair, tugging the wet strands between his fingers as the Doctor's own hands slid down his neck, scraping his fingertips against the skin. The Master reacted to the touch with a sharp intake of breath.

_"…Again?"_

_ The Doctor was frowning almost painfully, but his lips twitched reluctantly at the lack of shock in the captain's voice. "Sorry. Probably should have warned you before you came along, actually."_

_ Jack bowed his head and laughed. "You think?" He raised his eyes back to the scene and frowned once more. "I don't get it though: the more we watch, the more confused I get."_

_ The Doctor lowered his eyes briefly. "You're not the only one." He muttered to himself._

The Master arched forwards as the other Timelord's hands – still shaking – tugged at his tie. It slid down his neck with a soft hiss and fell to the floor. The Master kicked it away with a flick of his foot.

The Doctor didn't wait. He pulled his own jacket off his shoulders, still kissing the Master deep and hard as he shook the clammy material from his arms. Without a prompt the Master did the same, pulling his fingers reluctantly from their hold in the Doctor's hair. Taking advantage of the freedom, the Doctor pressed his lips harder against the Master's, forcing him back for a brief moment. The Master reacted by taking his lower lip in between his teeth and tugging it chidingly. The Doctor panted at the pressure.

The Doctor pulled his lip free, feeling it snap back against his teeth as the Master finally let go. Both men panted, their foreheads touching once more, both sets of eyes tightly closed. The Doctor could feel the Master's chest heaving under his fingers as they moved quickly down and began fumbling with the still-wet buttons.

The Master's eyes opened, watching intensely the expression of abandon on the other Timelord's face: the way his brow furrowed, his eyes still closed; the redness under his lip where teeth had grazed against skin. He lowered his eyes to the Doctor's fingers as they slid the shirt off his shoulders. His lips twitched just slightly.

The Doctor moved on to his own shirt, fully aware of the gaze of the Master, even though he had his eyes still closed. He fumbled frustratedly with the buttons, all the hundreds of years of learning patience and self-control falling away in a second. The Master's lips twitched a little wider as the Doctor gritted his teeth and panted in frustration. He watched, savouring the expression on the Doctor's face for a moment, then batted the other Timelord's hands away and began doing it himself.

The Doctor finally opened his eyes at the gesture, his arms falling to his sides. He half expected a sardonic remark, but the Master was silent. The shorter Timelord's lips curled up in amusement, but for once there was no malice there. His eyes flicked up to the Doctor's face as he finished the job, the smirk falling into a frown as he met the heavy-lidded eyes.

Both men surveyed each other for a moment. The Doctor felt a whisper of doubt in the back of his mind, but he was beyond the reach of logic or reason. Every excuse sounded empty and hollow. He let his eyes close, feeling the Master's eyes on him, and pushed the doubt recklessly back into silence. He slid his hands to the other Timelord's stomach and dragged them down the wet skin, pulling at the belt resting on his hips.

The unexpected touch made the Master's hips arch forward for a moment. His eyes flickered closed and he let out a shaking breath, his lips twitching once more at the Doctor's impatience, but once again he said nothing. Instead his fingers copied the actions of the taller Timelord, dragging themselves down over his stomach. One hand stopped to work at the Doctor's trousers. One didn't.

The Doctor panted hard, open-mouthed as the Master's hand found its way to his groin. He pressed his forehead harder against the other's as the Master began to massage roughly. The Doctor's hands began to shake more intensely. He gave up trying to unbuckle the Master's belt and instead tugged roughly at it, pulling it down past the other Timelord's hips through sheer force. The Master hissed as the Doctor's nails dug into his skin, but made no attempt to stop him. Eyes closed, the shorter Timelord's face contorted into a lust-fuelled frown and his head twitched. He pressed his lips against the Doctor's and pushed his head back against the wall, not caring as the Doctor's still-wet hair cast drops of cold water down his face.

The Doctor arched into the Master's hand, throwing his impatience into the sudden kiss. He dragged the Master's belt downwards and let go, letting his trousers slide. He felt the Master move as he shook them off deftly.

The Master pulled his hand away from the Doctor's groin. The sudden lack of contact made the taller Timelord groan into the kiss, pressing his hips forward instinctively to regain what he'd lost. The Master growled in reply, grabbing the Doctor's hips and pulling the material there downwards pointedly, as if to show why he had stopped.

There was a moment in which the two Timelords continued to kiss, lips pressing forcefully against each other as if pushed together by an outside force. The clothes that now scattered the tiled floor were dark and water-logged, soaking in the pools left over from the Master's furious attempt to bring the Doctor back. Neither man seemed to care.

Almost in unison the two Timelords parted, both breathing heavily at the intensity of the kiss. The Doctor leaned his head back against the wall, raising his eyes to the blank ceiling as he tried to regain his breath. The Master slid his fingers greedily up the other man's bare skin and massaged his hips momentarily. The Doctor felt himself twitch.

The Master watched him in silence. He seemed to be trying to think, beyond whatever other emotions and instincts were at the front of his mind. His fingers suddenly gripped at the Doctor's hips with his fingertips and pulled him bodily forward. He leaned up to the Doctor's ear.

"In the shower." He muttered thickly. The Doctor's eyes lidded and he leaned instinctively in to the sound of his voice, even as he frowned in confusion, unable to think. The Master closed his eyes, a tight-lipped frown on his face as the Doctor nudged against his head animalistically. He swallowed and reciprocated momentarily, and then sighed impatiently and bit his ear.

The Doctor gritted his teeth at the pain, pulling away. The Master kept his grip tight on his hips.

"Shower." He repeated in a growl.

"Why?" managed the Doctor, forcing the word out in a shaking breath.

"You're meant to be a genius." Snorted the Master, baring his teeth in irritation, and yet he massaged the Doctor's hips again as he spoke. "Work it out."

Genius or not, it took a moment for the meaning of the words to penetrate the complex layers of instinct, lust and thought that filled the Doctor's mind to bursting. Eventually realisation came to him. He slid his own hands over the Master's and pulled them away. The Master growled in frustration at what he thought was sudden rejection, averting his eyes and narrowing them at the opposite wall. He licked his upper lip distractedly.

"And here we-"

The Doctor took him off guard.

The taller Timelord held onto his hands and pushed him back over the threshold of the shower, silencing him with another kiss. The Master nearly lost his balance at the sudden movement, but closed his eyes, a smirk of enjoyment flashed briefly across his lips. He let the Doctor push him up against the cold tiles, hissing almost in enjoyment at the feel of them pressed up against his back. A moment later the Doctor let his hands go. The Master slammed his newly free hand against the shower unit. It began to hiss.

The noise was enough to distract the Doctor from what he was doing; or at least: to distract him enough for the Master's liking. The Doctor stalled at the sudden sound and the Master's lips twitched at the moment of weakness. He pulled away from the kiss, grabbing the Doctor's waist and flipping their positions.

The Doctor was too far gone to even care. Even the coldness of the tiles at his back seemed numb and distant. The only thing that seemed to make sense was the warmth of the Master's skin. He tugged the other Timelord between his legs as the hot water began to fall, slicking his hair over his face.

The Master complied, settling between the Doctor's legs without a moment's hesitation. His fingers gripped the other Timelord's hips hard and lifted them, pulling his legs around his waist and pushing himself closer, squeezing the Doctor between his chest and the wet wall as the hot water slid down them both.

The Doctor gritted his teeth and panted as he locked his legs around the Master, his hearts beating desperately in his chest. The other man shifted a little, his face still contorted in a hungry glare. He watched the Doctor's eyes screw shut as he pressed himself against him.

The Doctor felt the pressure and grabbed the back of the Master's neck, breathing so heavily that the roar of the falling water couldn't hide it. He bowed his head and buried it in the Master's neck, out of instinct this time rather than shame.

The other man paused. His eye twitched. He pressed the Doctor harder against the wall and raised a hand, taking his chin in his fingers and forcing it back upwards.

"No." The Master growled.

The strange tone of the word carried even over the roar of water, but before the Doctor could even consider what the tone was the other Timelord pushed himself inside, and he forgot everything else.

**Quick note:** Whew. Long, long scene. I'd just like to apologise in advance, as the next chapter may not be up until the weekend due to uni work. Writing sex scenes will not get me a degree. Unfortunately.

Sorry for leaving it on a cliffhanger; I'll get it up (bad choice of words) as soon as I possibly can.


	19. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

The Doctor clutched painfully hard at the back of the Master's neck, his teeth gritted and his head tilted back against the tiled wall as he felt the other Timelord slide into him. The hot water had made it easier, but the pain still made the Doctor cry out through his clenched teeth, his stomach shuddering violently against the Master's.

The Master moved unusually slowly, a lidded look of deep enjoyment and almost curiosity as he held the Doctor's jaw possessively between his fingers. A smirk twitched at the edges of his lips every time he pressed himself further forwards, edging slowly, deliberately inside the Doctor. With each movement the taller Timelord's head jolted forwards as if to bury it in the Master's shoulder, but each time the Master held it back with his fingers, watching the expressions fluctuate between pain and pleasure.

The Doctor made a noise of discomfort as the Master entered him fully, feeling his muscles clench around the other man instinctively. Despite the receding pain he felt himself pulling the Master closer with his legs, the long-forgotten sense of urgency making his stomach twist almost desperately at the sensation of the other Timelord inside him. He'd spent so long trying to numb himself to the Master's influence – even the last time the urge had been reluctant – but after so much silence; so much trauma, the heat of the Master's flesh pressed so hard inside him felt like a furious anaesthetic. He growled in frustration as the Master simply clutched at his jaw, enjoying the twitching of muscles around him with a dark smirk.

"_Move_." The Doctor heard himself growl, as if from a distance. The Master leaned forward, resting his forehead once more against the Doctor's. He bared his teeth in a dark smile.

"Say please."

The Doctor's eyes rolled backwards. He tried to lift his chin, pressing the back of his head against the hard surface of the wall in frustration, but the Master held him in place, his eyes darting across the other Timelord's face in a strange mixture of dark enjoyment and affection, even as his eyes lidded against the lust and hot water.

The Master moved – just slightly. He jerked his hips forward once, sharply. The Doctor opened his mouth in a sharp cry, reciprocating the movement as best they could, constricted by the wall behind him and the Master's hand on his hip.

The Master panted as the Doctor clenched his muscles desperately tight around him. He closed his eyes in enjoyment as the Doctor dug his nails into the back of his neck, drawing blood. He bit his own lip roughly, apparently trying to maintain control.

"Why would I want to move," he hissed into the Doctor's face, "when being inside you is the only thing that makes the drums stop?"

The Doctor gasped in frustration, unable to force the Master to move because of his position. He tried to jerk the other Timelord forwards with his legs, but the Master resisted, his eyes closed as if listening. The rush of water was the only noise the Doctor could hear except for his own heartbeats, and the sound of his own breath as he gasped desperate lungfulls of steam.

A smirk of relief seemed to creep up one side of the Master's face, as if the drumbeat in his head truly was gone. He let go of the Doctor's chin and sighed; a shuddering sound that carried over the fall of the water. His teeth vanished behind his thin lips as he pressed them together, arching his neck against the feel of the Doctor's fingers.

"Master," panted the Doctor eventually, unable to stop his hips from twitching at the lack of movement. The other Timelord's eyes flashed open at the sound of his name. "Please, just move."

A shiver seemed to pass down the Master's back. His eyes lidded heavily and he leaned in to the Doctor, his lips brushing against the taller Timelord's as he opened his mouth in a wide, lustful grin. The Doctor leaned subconsciously towards the touch but the Master backed away teasingly, keeping his lips just out of reach.

"Oh I just _love_ it when you use that word."

The Doctor felt the Master's grip tighten on his hip. The other hand slid up to rest against the wet tiles next to the Doctor's head.

And then the Master thrust forward.

The Doctor screwed his eyes shut once again. The sudden force of the Master's thrust shot through him like an electric shock, both painful and pleasurable at the same time. With no grip on his jaw to stop him he arched his back away from the wall, raising his face towards the falling water.

The Master watched the reaction, his chest heaving harder at the mixed emotions on the Doctor's face. He arched his neck once more and closed his eyes, panting through a wide smile.

The two Timelords started to move, the Master setting the pace with his hand on the Doctor's hip, tugging him forwards to meet the Master's thrusts. The Doctor clenched his teeth, but not to hold back his cries: He'd already surrendered to instinct; to urges centuries old and almost forgotten, and shame didn't even cross his clouded mind. His jaw dropped, each jolt of the Master's hips eliciting a gruff groan; each groan making the Master's pace rougher.

The Master's grin swept into a deep frown as the Doctor gripped harder around him with his muscles. His eyes squeezed harder shut and he moved his hand from the tiled wall, holding the Doctor aloft just by sheer pressure. He began to growl in response to the Doctor's cries, matching the taller Timelord's abandon with his own. Instinct took over, and almost thoughtlessly he pulled the Doctor's face back down to his own and kissed him furiously.

The Doctor groaned into the Master's mouth, feeling his muscles start to seize up and tighten as the other Timelord's hand slid silently away from his face, down his wet neck and crept down between them. The Doctor pulled away from the kiss with a loud gasp, baring his teeth as he felt the Master's fingers wrap suddenly around his erection. It twitched at the touch, and the Master began to stroke, keeping rhythm with his own relentless thrusts.

The new sensation made the Doctor even more vocal, screwing his eyes so tight that white dots began to appear behind them. He jerked into the touch, only vaguely aware that the Master was beginning to twitch inside him.

Despite the lack of speech, both Timelords suddenly reacted in unison, resting their heads against each other once more as they began to pant more loudly; faster. The Doctor's voice began to crack through steam and overuse. The Master's lips hovered inches from his own, both Timelords' mouths open as both began to shudder. The Master seemed to snarl at the intensity.

The Doctor felt the Master's fingers; the heat of him, and suddenly shuddered, jerking uncontrollably into the other Timelord's hand with a muffled shout. His fingers slipped on the back of the Master's soaking neck as he came, scratching across his shoulders unconsciously.

Whether because of the Doctor's shout, the sensation of fingers scraping against his skin, the twitch of the Doctor's flesh under his fingers, or through simple lust, the Master's snarl deepened. He dug his fingers desperately hard into the Doctor's hip and yanked him forwards once more, every muscle twitching as he came inside the other Timelord, hissing his pleasure.

The hot water continued to hiss, washing away the evidence as they stayed in position, both struggling for breath, both feeling the stings and bruises as the lust began to fade. The Master's neck and shoulders were red with scratch marks; the Doctor's hips bore the deep imprint of fingernails.

_Jack blew out a breath. It felt like he'd been holding his breath for an hour. Watching the Doctor and the Master was like a psychological puzzle; the physicality of the situation aside, it was as though he was witnessing a silent battle between two minds he couldn't even begin to comprehend. The dull ache – the after effect of his hangover – pounded in his head as he tried to wrap his mind around what he had seen._

_ The Doctor was silent, watching. His eyes had never left the Master since the scene had begun, his expression deep and complex. Jack turned to him._

_ "Why?"_

_ The question sounded ambiguous, even as Jack said it. Somehow, though, the Doctor understood. He raised his eyebrows and shook his head._

_ "Oh Jack, if I knew that you wouldn't be here." He muttered darkly. "The planet was dying, and I was…" He watched as the Master collapsed against him, for once silent, still panting against the Doctor's lips. "All those years alone. The Last Timelord." The words fell from his mouth bitterly, as though the taste of them made his teeth ache. "And then this. I've spent my whole life justifying my actions, but even I can't justify what I did here. Comfort? Madness? Weakness? Take your pick."_

_ Jack nodded, but noticed the omission: the one motivation that – after this second scene; after watching the way it had started – he was now sure was a major, if incomprehensible factor. "How about love?"_

_ Something like sadness flickered behind the Doctor's eyes and he clenched his jaw. He didn't answer the question._

**Q.N:** Okay, I lied. I couldn't leave them like that until the end of the weekend. Next chapter will now be left until possibly Sunday (honestly).


	20. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

The Doctor dug his fingers into the Master's shoulders, still clinging there as the momentary anaesthesia of sex began to fade away. The numbness ended. Confusion, self-loathing and despair took its place. He gritted his teeth against the visceral sting of it, part of him wishing that the numbness had lasted – just a little longer.

Subconsciously he pressed his head closer to the Master's, seeking comfort even as he hated himself for it. The Master opened his eyes at the gesture and looked into the Doctor's face. A tired smirk flickered up one side of his face for a moment and then he leaned in to the Doctor's ear.

"_Now_ tell me this won't happen again."

The Doctor stayed silent, locked in his own thoughts. Whatever he said would sound empty, he realised. Once could be written off as an accident; twice was beyond denying, even to himself.

The Master understood the silence all too well. He sighed, finally regaining his breath, and smiled in satisfaction. He lowered the Doctor's legs back to the floor and backed away.

The Doctor resisted the urge to slide down the wall. The wet floor felt uneven underneath his feet, his legs threatened to shake, but he forced himself to stay upright, fully aware of the Master's eyes on him. Whatever else he had done, whatever mental battles he was losing, he wouldn't give the Master that kind of satisfaction.

He let the hot water flow over him, raising his head into the stream of it as he tried to understand what had just happened. His head still felt foggy; disconnected from the present as though still struggling to pull itself out of the long days alone, but even through that his mind ran over the situation, analysing it. Something felt wrong: he could sense it in his stomach. The first time, the Master had been sadistic, dominating, proving a point. This time – when the Doctor had been most vulnerable - he'd barely even spoken. It was wrong; out of character.

The Master had turned his back by the time the Doctor opened his eyes, snatching up his wet clothes from the bathroom floor. The Doctor's brow knotted. He watched the scratches on the Master's shoulders, red and glinting on the wet skin.

"You brought me back." He said, curiously.

The Master paused for a moment. He sighed dramatically, his back still turned. "And it begins. I thought for a moment I'd finally found a way to shut you up."

The Doctor ignored it. He turned the shower off. The hiss of water faded into nothingness, and the Doctor watched the back of the Master's head, his eyebrows furrowing ever harder. "You could have just left me there." He continued. The Master sighed again and raised his eyes, frowning. "I wasn't a threat to you anymore, I was beaten, so why? Why do it?"

"You know," growled the Master, "for someone who was drooling like a vegetable not long ago, you're irritatingly vocal."

"You did it before, too."

The Master's head twitched, as though he were jerking away a fly. He snatched up the towel from its long-forgotten corner and began drying himself; but the Doctor's mind was beginning to clear, faster and faster as the thoughts came to him. The more he spoke, the more strength he seemed to gain. "You had me at your mercy. I was an old man, and you put me back this way. You could have killed me _any_ time since I stepped on board the Valiant, but I'm still alive. Why do that?" He hesitated. The Master was ignoring him. "Unless-"

"Shhhh!"

The Master dropped the towel suddenly. He spun and pressed a finger roughly against the Doctor's lips, pushing him back against the wall. He screwed his face up in a frustrated glare.

"That's enough out of you. That mouth has its uses, but it won't stop me sewing it shut."

The Master kept his finger pressed hard against the Doctor's mouth. After a moment he swallowed back his anger and raised his eyebrows. "Are you finished?"

The finger pressed bruisingly hard against the Doctor's lips, pinning them shut. He felt the finger shaking against his skin; whether through anger or fear, he couldn't tell.

Still frowning, the Doctor reluctantly acquiesced: he raised his hand and slid the Master's finger away from his mouth, turning his face away.

The Master's eyes narrowed. He leaned in even closer, his teeth showing in a snarl. "Good." He snapped. "Finally learning to _obey_ your Master."

The taller Timelord felt the Master's fingers slide through his grasp as he moved away. His fingers twitched in the absence, even as he tried to stop himself.

There was a silence. The Master turned his back once more and began drying himself more furiously than before, as if hurrying to get away. The Doctor leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes as the confusion and heavy sickness began to settle in again in the silence. He'd spoken more bravely than he felt, as usual, but now that the Master had reverted to his mocking self, he felt more alone than ever.

There was a soft click.

The Doctor blinked back into reality. He had no idea how long he'd been thinking, but he realised he was shivering: the hot water had turned icy on his skin. The Master had already dried himself and was now standing – wet clothes dripping over his arm – with his hand on the door.

"Leaving so soon?" The Doctor forced himself to say, unable to keep the bitterness out of his tone. "Not staying to play with your pet?"

The Master halted in the doorway. He looked over his shoulder at the other Timelord, his eyes surveying the almost hurt expression on the Doctor's face. He sighed, pressing his lips together thoughtfully.

"Get dressed." He hissed.

"Why should I?" The Doctor demanded, his teeth clenched.

The Master hesitated. Doubt flickered in his eyes momentarily. His lips pressed harder together as if angry, and then he sniffed.

"We're going for a walk." He muttered off-handedly, and then walked out of the door.

* * *

**Q.N:** I've just discovered the joy of the page break. Hooray!

While this may be a pompous thing to do, I've actually set up a blog about my experience writing fanfiction: how bloody painful it can be, and how amazing. I'm also starting to review my own chapters of this thing. I get ridiculously anxious about my writing and characterisation, so having somewhere to vent about it would be useful.

If you'd like to read it, you're welcome. There may be _very small_ spoilers, so if you're allergic to spoilers of any shape or size, don't worry about it.

You can find the link on my profile page.

Thanks all, see you next chapter!

Turkaholic


	21. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

The landing platform of the Valiant was clear and cool, riding in almost ghostly silence through a cloudless, star-lit sky. While it had once been a hive of activity – busy and alive with people, planes, lights – it was now all but empty; silent. The tarmac sparkled under the dim illumination of distant stars, but nothing else broke the constant darkness.

The President's jet still stood, alone and unused on the runway: the sole reminder of what had come before. It was like a museum piece, a relic of an ancient civilisation, now distant and half forgotten. In some ways, thought the Doctor, it was.

The fresh air hit him like a drug. He had spent so long in sterile, recycled air that he had almost forgotten the smell of it; the feel of the wind as it swept across his face. It felt like he'd been holding his breath for weeks, and now his lungs burned as he breathed it in deep, trying to keep the memory of it in his mind. After all, he had no idea when he would experience it again.

The Master strode past him silently, raising his eyes to the sky, the tarmac crackling quietly underneath his feet. He had been unusually silent, speaking only to tell the Doctor not to try anything: that he needed permission to go through any door. After that, he had simply led; stopping at the doors to slide his ring across them; granting the Doctor temporary access to temporary freedom.

"Do you miss it?"

For a moment, the Doctor wondered where the words came from. The Master still had his eyes raised to the sky. He frowned deeply.

The silence tore the Master's gaze away. He looked over, matching the Doctor's frown with one of his own. "Your beloved Tardis, Doctor. Do you miss it?"

The Doctor took a moment to analyse the look on the Master's face. It was unreadable. Whatever was going through the Master's mind didn't filter through to his face.

The Doctor sighed. He shook his head. "It doesn't matter now." His voice turned bitter, his tone sharp. "You tore her apart."

The Master tilted his head back and smiled widely, his eyes wrinkled in amusement. "You still call it _she._" He raised an eyebrow. "Let's not delve into the psychology of that one."

The Doctor didn't rise to the bait. The night air was soothing as it was cold; easing the terrible sickness that had overwhelmed him just a few hours ago. It made his head clearer. The little white room that the Master had designed for him seemed tailor-made to sap his strength. Up here in the open darkness the claustrophobia and the despair seemed to fade. He stuck his hands deep into his newly-dry jacket and stretched his legs, walking the vast expanse of blackness towards the only feature on the platform: the empty jet.

"Pathetic, isn't it?" He heard the Master say, "Sometimes I wonder how a primitive species like this made it to the end of time."

The Doctor reached out and touched the nose of the jet, savouring the touch of something new, even if it was cold, black metal. "They worked for it." He muttered reverently, almost to himself. "Long and hard. From fire to the wheel; from the wheel to the Moon." His eyes flickered sadly. "…And you destroyed it."

The Master snorted, a snarl of contempt on his face. "This regeneration. It's sentimental. You can tell you're getting old."

"Oh sentimentality has nothing to do with it." The Doctor raised his eyebrows and looked over his shoulder. "I've seen enough civilisations die to last me a lifetime."

The Master looked into his face, tilting his head slightly in a contemplative frown. A moment later he bowed his head and smiled triumphantly, lips sliding back over his teeth. "Patience, Doctor." He whispered loudly. "You're about to see one rise."

The Doctor turned his face away once more, gritting his teeth in frustration. He wished he could make the Master see; make him understand what was so wrong. He didn't want to admit to himself the ugly truth: that he might really be too far gone to understand.

"A civilisation founded on slavery and war and fear?" He growled. "What you've got down there isn't a civilisation, it's a slaughter house."

The Master laughed. "I thought you were over this little obsession?" He walked up behind the Doctor, leaning over his shoulder. "Did I bang your head too hard against that wall? Do you even remember what those apes are?"

The Doctor sighed, still touching the nose of the jet. The pain of it still stung. "I remember." He muttered. "But that still doesn't give you the right to do this."

The Master stayed in place for a moment, still leaning over the Doctor's shoulder. He clenched his jaw in frustration, eyes narrowed at the side of the other Timelord's face. The Doctor's eyes lidded just slightly at the closeness, but he stood his ground. Eventually the Master let out a forceful breath of irritation and backed away.

The Doctor closed his eyes as the presence of the Master faded a little, swallowing back the instinct that had told him to turn around. He heard the Master's footsteps recede across the platform and looked up at the stars. It made him feel homesick.

"Do you remember, back home on Gallifrey," The Master shouted a moment later. The word made the Doctor's hearts skip a beat. "we were always the outcasts, you and I…"

The taller Timelord lowered his hand from the jet and turned around at the tone of the Master's voice, a curious frown on his face. The Master stood on the very edge of the deck, his expression seemed to have changed once more. He looked almost confused.

"…they told me I was mad." His lip twitched into a humourless half smile.

The Doctor stepped up beside him, the frown on his face growing deeper. He raised his eyes to the sky. "…they told _me_ I was a coward." He admitted, forcing his voice into a conversational tone. "Right on both counts, in the end."

"And yet we're the only ones left." The Master's face twitched into a sour glare, looking out into space. "Ironic."

Both Timelords stood together in silence, staring out at the sky, the jackets of their suits fluttering back as the updraft of the Valiant swept past them. The Doctor allowed his eyes to lid tiredly, almost sensing the Master's change in mood. It was as though the insanity was dormant. The Doctor forced a wild spark of hope back into the depths of his mind: any hope for the other Timelord's sanity had died long ago.

"…Master –"

"No."

He turned to look at the shorter Timelord, his eyes lidded tiredly. "You don't have to do this anymore."

The Master's face contorted angrily. He pressed his lips together hard. "Maybe I want to." He snapped.

The Doctor's face softened. "I don't believe that." He whispered.

The Master laughed coldly, his eyes narrowed into slits. "See? Sentimental."

The Doctor lowered his eyes, looking over the precipice into the blackness below.

Neither man spoke again for a few moments; The Master glaring out into the blackness with a heavy frown, the Doctor watching the Valiant pass over the Earth, letting the tiredness sink in – and the loss.

Eventually the Master stepped back from the edge and looked away.

"Let's get you back in your cage."

The Doctor lingered for a moment longer and closed his eyes heavily. He clenched his jaw, pushing back his emotions, and then turned and followed.

The walk back to the room was silent, the corridors of the Valiant empty and cold; but the fresh air faded into the stagnant and stale, the further away from the platform they walked. Eventually the Master stopped, passing his ring in front of the door to open it. It slid silently, revealing the sterile white beyond. The Doctor felt his hair stand on end.

"In you go."

The Doctor hesitated, feeling panic rising in his chest. Once he stepped over the threshold, he would be trapped again.

The Master made a noise of irritation in the back of his throat. He ran a tongue across his teeth. "Doctor, do I need to carry you in?"

The Doctor felt the entrapment rising up inside him, like something clutching at his ribs. After the limited freedom of the platform, it made the feeling of claustrophobia in here ten times worse.

He took in a deep breath and stepped through the door. The Master smiled maliciously.

"Good boy. Now stay there until your Master calls for you."

The Doctor ignored it and walked over to the window, staring at the stars through that thick pane of glass, disconnected once more. He heard the Master turn on his heel, about to walk away.

"Master…" He called. He heard the other Timelord pause. He hesitated, frowning almost painfully out of the window. "…how much did it hurt you when I left?"

There was no reply. A moment later he heard footsteps once more, and the door slid silently shut.


	22. Interlude II

**Note:  
**Thank you all for the reviews you've given me. I'm really happy to know that the time and energy I put into writing this is making other people happy too. Let me know what you think of it. Blog entry for this chapter is now available, if anyone is even vaguely interested. See my profile for the link.

In any case, thanks for reading so far - see you next chapter!

Turkaholic

* * *

**Interlude II**

Jack sat with his elbows propped on his knees, watching his hands vacantly as the Doctor's slow, quiet footsteps drifted to him from the corridor below. The wire mesh beneath him vibrated as the Timelord ascended the steps back towards the centre console and tapped a button. The Tardis made a noise like a high pitched sigh, and then fell quiet again.

"Just synching the next set of memories now." Called the Doctor, a little too cheerfully. Jack looked up from his hands towards him. He had his back turned, but he could see the Doctor's reflection in one of the monitors: the vacant, distant frown was settled on his features, but Jack decided not to comment.

"It's funny – I don't remember you having to synch memories the last time we did this."

"You were asleep."

Jack stared into the Doctor's ghostly reflection thoughtfully for a moment, and then back down at his hands. He watched the muscles twitch and flex under the skin, trying his hardest to understand what he had seen so far. It was too much; too complex. Jack had had his fair share of sexual partners, but even his vast experience didn't seem to apply in any way to the Master and the Doctor. Sex and mind games; hate and affection seemed mingled into one. He couldn't make up his mind if he was being forced to watch porn or chess.

"How long we got?"

The Doctor raised a hand and rested it on the edge of the screen. "Ten? Twenty minutes?"

"And d'you need to stand there the whole time?"

The Doctor seemed to pause. Jack heard a sigh, although he wasn't sure if it was the Timelord or his Tardis. "Suppose not." Came the ambivalent reply after a moment. Jack looked up from his hands at the sound of movement. The Doctor turned towards him and leaned back against the console, folding his arms across his chest.

"Hangover gone?"

"Oh yeah." Laughed Jack, rubbing his head. "Problem is I've got a whole new kind of headache to replace it."

A vague smile twitched up one side of the Timelord's face. He raised his eyebrows slightly. "I know what you mean."

The Tardis hissed calmly around them. Jack took a deep breath and looked down at his hands again. He'd never liked sitting still. He'd spent his life pleasure-and-thrill seeking, running away from memories of Gray – amongst others. Ianto had been another addition to a long list of regrets and losses he didn't know how to cope with. It had never really occurred to him how similar he and the Doctor were – until now.

"Did you really believe he didn't want to do it?" He found himself asking; more to distract himself than anything. The Doctor snorted and stared at the wall above Jack's head.

"Maybe… I _hoped_. There's not that much difference between hope and belief… in the end."

"I think I saw it. I mean-" Jack narrowed his eyes in thought, trying to think how he could describe it "when you were uh…"

The Doctor glanced at him, his brow furrowing. "In the shower." He said firmly, guessing at Jack's hesitation. The captain laughed nervously.

"Yeah. He seemed like a different guy."

There was a long pause. The Doctor watched Jack's face seriously.

"That's why you decided to show me the unedited version." He continued, suddenly understanding. "It's not about the sex, is it?"

The Doctor averted his eyes at the word.

"What you saw was a shadow." He admitted, brushing his hair back awkwardly. He let himself slide down the console and onto the floor, resting his back against it. "Something I thought had died… a long time ago."

Jack ignored the avoidance of his question and nodded. "You said he slipped away. I kinda didn't believe you until I saw that."

The Doctor's chest rose in a heavy sigh. He splayed his legs across the floor of the Tardis, staring at his shoes. He shook his head absently. "He wasn't always like that. He was a good man, once. Well… a decent man." He pushed his bottom lip out in thought. "As decent as anybody could be… with drums pounding away in their head day and night."

Jack felt his stomach drop a little at the matter-of-fact tone in the Doctor's voice, as if he was commentating on something completely indifferent to him. Jack had used it before; he knew what it meant.

"That's something else that bugs me." Said Jack, sitting forward, away from the railings. The Doctor raised his eyes in curiosity. "The drums. How could they stop, if – like you said – it was just in his head?"

The Doctor sat silently for a moment, watching him, then rested his head back against the console and looked up, absently staring at the underside of it

"I should have realised _then_ that something wasn't right." He said, an undertone of regret in his otherwise flat voice. His eyes flickered doubtfully across the blank space above him. "But _I_ didn't listen. I was too busy. Too wrapped up in my own problems to think about it." His voice dropped to a mutter. "If I'd just taken the time to work it out…"

The Doctor closed his eyes heavily. His throat seemed to constrict just slightly. Jack frowned, watching the moment of pain slide over the Timelord's face. Just as quickly, it was gone again.

"That wasn't a drumbeat in his head, it was a signal." The Doctor continued, his voice strong again, as though the moment hadn't happened. "Planted there when he was a child; a link created between him and the Timelords so that they could escape."

Jack was becoming even more confused. "You're talking about the Time War." The Doctor looked at him strangely, as if he was surprised that Jack was even there. "Doctor, they all died."

The Doctor's face twisted into a look of intense confusion. He opened his mouth but no sound came out, as if unsure what to say.

"Christmas Day?" He asked, nonplussed. "Everyone's face changed? Planet in the sky?"

Jack raised his eyebrows and shook his head. "I was… gone by then."

For some reason the comment brought a grin to his face. He laughed silently. "Oh Donna would have liked you."

The grin faded painfully, almost as fast as it had arrived.

"The Timelords," he continued, "used an innocent child as a weapon. I was so blind. I always thought that the madness caused the drums, but it was the other way around."

"Then how come it was you that stopped it?"

The Doctor sighed deeply for a moment. "The Archangel Network." He growled, then looked away. "That psychic connection; whenever we were – _close_ it amplified to an almost physical presence by the network until it just… _drowned_ everything else out." His lip twitched just slightly; bitterly. "The signal couldn't even compete."

Jack felt himself shiver, though he wasn't sure why. "Well that explains a lot. I mean… that's why you gave in so easily, right?"

The Timelord's eyes settled tiredly on Jack. He smiled sadly and shook his head. "I'd blame everything on that if I could, but I'd be lying. The psychic network didn't change the connection, it just made it –" He struggled to find the word, his mouth working silently as he considered his options. "…_realer._"

Jack struggled to understand, but he was fast becoming used to that. Ever since he'd staggered on board the Tardis with the help of the Doctor, everything had moved so fast he could barely process it.

The Tardis made an innocuous sigh, but apparently it was what the Doctor had been waiting for. He jumped to his feet with a sudden burst of energy and bent close into one of the monitors. A grin spread wide across his face.

"Oh she's good." He said proudly. "Getting old but still going strong. Just look at that: five minutes and she's got the whole thing synched already."

The Doctor stroked the edge of the monitor for a moment. "Right then, off we go."

Jack frowned furiously, still struggling to his feet. "Wait a second!"

"Sorry. Can't." Came the frustratingly upbeat reply. The captain tugged at his coat, straightening it out after the sudden movement, and glared as the Doctor strode towards the white doors.

"Look, do we have to rush this? You said you wanted me to understand…" he spread his palms out appeasingly. "I still have so many questions!"

The Doctor stopped in his tracks at the words. After a moment he turned to look at the other man, as though seeing him for the first time. "Makes a change for you to ask questions." He said, a tone of quiet surprise in his voice. The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "You were always more… 'point-and-shoot, ask-questions-later'."

Jack paused, suddenly nonplussed by the change of topic. He looked down at the mesh of the Tardis, and watched the dim lights flickering beneath as he thought. The Doctor was right: he'd changed. When had it happened? He knew almost as soon as he asked himself the question.

"The last time I jumped in head first, someone died." He said slowly, the words hurting almost physically as they escaped his lips. He took a deep breath and stood up straight, looking seriously into the Doctor's face. "I owe it to Ianto's memory to change that."

The Timelord surveyed him silently, his expression unmoving as he weighed up the words; the expression on Jack's face. Eventually his face softened. A ghost of a smile pressed itself against his lips. He placed his hand on the door.

"Then it wasn't me who made you a better person." He said quietly; warmly. "It was him."

With that he opened the lock, and stepped out into the blackness.


	23. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

_Jack followed the Doctor back out into the nothingness beyond the Tardis doors. The door clicked shut behind him. He started to feel the unease in his stomach grow once more: he'd already seen things on this journey that he'd never expected – never wanted – to see. For a moment he wondered about the Doctor's motives – what was so desperately important that he felt he had to share something so personal; so painfully emotional? But then the Doctor turned towards him, his face set seriously, and the thought fled to the back of his head._

_ "Those walks became a regular event over the next few weeks." Said the Doctor. "At first I thought it was a chance for him to gloat; to prove a point, but after a while I began to wonder if there wasn't more to it than that."_

_ "Yeah. After what I've seen so far, I'd guess that too."_

_ The Doctor smiled at Jack, but there was something patronising in it. "It's more complicated than that." He said quietly. "It always was with the Master. He wasn't just insane; he was confused - and clever. So, so clever." Jack felt his discomfort rise as something like pride entered the Doctor's tone. "Sometimes I wonder what he could have been, if it hadn't been for the madness." The Doctor's voice trailed off quietly. Jack watched as the Timelord's face seemed to glaze over, and he wondered what scenarios were playing out behind those eyes._

_ "Okay, so what d'you think the reasons were?"_

_ The Doctor blinked, bringing his mind back out of the past. The ghosts of the missed possibilities faded into the back of his mind. The pain didn't._

_ "I think…" said the Doctor carefully, slowly. His voice constricted slightly. "that he wanted to keep me sane."_

_ There was a pause as the Doctor's words fell on the empty air around them. Jack tried his hardest to understand, but quite simply couldn't. The confusion must have showed on his face, as the Doctor suddenly smiled sadly. "I told you it was complicated."_

_ "I'm never gonna get my head around this." Jack sighed desperately. "One minute he's trying to break you, the next minute he's saving you."_

_ "To be honest, I'm not sure even the Master could understand his motives. He was… unstable – more unstable than I'd ever seen him before." The Doctor slid his hands into his coat pockets and turned his back. He frowned deeply, studying the emptiness as though it were full of images – memories or ideas. "Looking back, maybe it was just the drumming in his head." He let out a forceful sigh. "But hope's a fickle thing. And despite every ounce of logic, every tiny particle of reason in my head, I can't help but hope it was something else._

_ "…Anyway," The change in the Doctor's tone made the captain jump. He watched the Timelord stand up straight, "lots more to see, and not much time. Let's move on."_


	24. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

The Master's hollow eyes were fixed on the distant sky, a dark look of impatience contorting his face. He leaned back against the railings of the bridge and scowled childishly, tapping his ring against the metal beneath his fingers.

_Tap tap tap tap… tap tap tap tap._

"Harry?"

The Master raised his eyes to Lucy's face as she came to stand beside him. A dark smirk lifted one side of his mouth.

"Not long now, my sweet little Lucy."

She smiled – a manic, open-lipped, wide-eyed smile as she laid long red fingernails reverently on her husband's chest. She turned her face to the window, her complexion almost as pale as the clouds. "I can't wait. Will it be beautiful, Harry?"

The smirk widened into a blissful grin. His eyes flashed as he slid an arm around her shoulder. "Just watch. It will be _magnificent_."

Lucy closed her eyes, mesmerised, and rested her head in his chest with her lips slightly parted. She slid her hand underneath his jacket and around his waist as the clamour of footsteps arose in the corridor. The Master let her lie against his chest for a few seconds more, the grin still plastered to his face as he looked through the polished glass at what lay far beneath them.

The footsteps became louder. The Master's eyes flickered towards the door as it began to slide open. He leaned down and kissed Lucy's pale hair playfully and pulled away from her. "Showtime. Let's have some fun."

* * *

The Timelord looked into the dull, lifeless eyes of the guard that walked beside him, wondering whether it was possible to reach out; to connect. He had a big mouth, that he knew, but something about the almost vacant expression that lingered constantly behind those eyes made him doubt that even his way with words would have any impact.

He'd still been half asleep when they'd come for him – light headed and heavy lidded from a few hours of restless sleep – but even the faintest flicker of tiredness had disappeared with the sight of levelled guns; the soft but threatening click of metal: apparently the Master was still all too aware of how dangerous he could be.

Now, as he was marched by force along the corridor, the familiar feeling of adrenaline was rushing through him like a tidal wave. He could feel his hearts thundering violently against his ribcage, almost drowning out the shudder of so many heavily-booted feet trampling along the pristine, fluorescent-lit corridor. There was a creeping fear rising in him, pulling harder at his stomach the further they walked. If he'd been alone perhaps it would never have been so strong; but he wasn't.

He could hear her breathing from here. Shallow. Laboured. Afraid.

Martha's mother.

She'd looked at him in confusion, and then horrendous fear in her face when their eyes had met, but had said nothing, perhaps afraid of the guards that surrounded her. Even so, the Doctor knew what was going through her mind – it was the same thought that nagged at him, clawing at his insides. He kept his face in neutral, well aware that she and Tish were watching him from the corners of their eyes. He didn't want to make their fear any greater.

The doors to the bridge rose up before them as they were forced around a sharp corner. Tish raised a hand to her mouth nervously, her other hand interlocking with her mother's shaking fingers. "_Oh god…" _

The Doctor gritted his teeth, frowning hard as the door to the bridge rose up before them. He hissed for silence. Tish turned to look at him, her eyes wide in fear.

"We don't know what this is about yet." He whispered to her desperately, the sound of marching footsteps covering his words. "The Master thrives on fear and panic. Don't give him more ammunition than he's already got."

The footsteps came to a halt outside the door. The Doctor swallowed back the clawing fear at his stomach as they stood, waiting for the door to open. Beside him, Martha's mother let out a slow, deliberate breath and raised her head proudly. Despite this, she still clutched to Tish's fingers.

"He wouldn't have had _any_ ammunition, if it weren't for you." She muttered coldly, her voice shaking. "He wouldn't even be here. If he kills my daughter…"

"He won't." Even as the Doctor said it, it felt like a lie.

Martha's mother ignored him. She stared ahead at the door as it began to slide open. Her voice dropped to a whisper; one so low that the Doctor knew the words were meant only for him. "If he kills my daughter, I'll kill you."

* * *

"And here they are! The guests of honour."

The Master vaulted gleefully down the steps as his prisoners were nudged through the door. A broad, welcoming smile spread across his face and he opened out his arms invitingly. The Doctor surveyed his face; his stance, and glared. He knew within a fraction of a second that the Master's mania was in full swing. Whatever he was planning, talking to him would probably be pointless.

Tish and her mother lingered behind the Doctor silently for a moment. The Master's face fell sadly. He dropped his arms to his sides. "No? No hugs and kisses?" He pouted. "I'd hoped we could move past all this."

There was more silence. Lucy Saxon made her way slowly down the steps, resting her porcelain hand on the rail gently. Her head lilted to the side in childish curiosity at the three figures near the doorway and she seated herself gracefully in one of the seats around the table.

"What do you want?" called Martha's mother, levelling a hate-filled glare at the Master. He smiled sardonically and stalked towards her. She clutched more tightly at Tish's fingers. The Doctor held his breath.

"Oh I like you." He laughed darkly. "Old Mother Jones has some fire in her. It's almost a _shame_ I'm about to douse it out."

"What do you mean?" the Doctor interjected sharply.

The Doctor hadn't meant to speak. He'd been determined to take his own advice and not rise to the bait, but the comment made him uneasy. If the worst was coming, he wanted to know.

The Master slowly turned his head. He snorted, a theatrical look of irritation adorning his face. "_Excuse me_? I was having a private conversation with Mrs. Jones. Learn some manners."

The Doctor shook his head slowly, glaring into the Master's face. "Don't play games with us, Master, because I swear-"

The Master suddenly stood back and clapped his hands together, cutting the Doctor off. "Games! What an excellent idea." He stepped back and slid onto the table, sitting with a single leg dangling over the edge, child-like. He rested his hands on his knees, his mouth curling upwards in a snarl. "Ooh I've got one. Let's play 'I've got a secret.'"

There was a nervous pause. Tish and her mother exchanged glances. The tone in the Timelord's voice had grown suddenly sinister. The Master looked into each of their faces, one by one, studying them. "Who wants to go first? Mrs. Jones? …little Tish? _You_, Doctor?"

The Doctor felt his stomach tense. The Master was playing with them now, like a cat pawing at a dying mouse. He gritted his teeth hard and stared into the manic eyes of the Master, wondering yet again at how much he could change in so little time. Last night's walk had taken them up to the Valiant's landing deck again, and they'd had what – by the Master's standards, at least – had been a civilised conversation. Now he was staring into the eyes of a monster once more. Why it still hurt and surprised him after nearly a millennium, the Doctor didn't know.

The Master tapped his finger impatiently on his knee, waiting for one of them to speak. When they didn't he growled. "Why are you always _so_ boring? Fine, I'll start."

Lucy Saxon watched with passive amusement as her husband pushed himself back up to his full height. He closed his eyes and stretched, cracking his neck slowly, apparently savouring the silence and the almost tangible sense of fear that was growing with each passing moment. The Doctor tried to keep his own fear to himself: he knew the Master too well; he knew that showing fear would be playing into his hands.

"I've got a secret." He whispered loudly; dangerously. A sinister glint entered his eye. "Want to guess what it is?"

The Doctor heard Tish shuffle uncomfortably behind him. He twitched his fingers, signalling her to stay calm, but he couldn't tell if she understood. He couldn't even tell if she was watching.

The Master continued to watch in silence for a moment, but patience had never been one of his virtues, and the Doctor knew it. Whatever the Master wanted to say to him – them, had to come out soon. He was right.

The Master's snarl broke. It cracked into a euphoric smile, like plaster cracking away from a crumbling wall. His eyes wrinkled into slits and he threw his head back, laughing triumphantly. The noise made the Doctor's fists clench in dread.

"Oh yes! It's days like this that make life worth _bothering_ with!"

He jumped up onto the table with the dexterity of a cheetah and swept down on Lucy, taking her hand in his. With a smile to match her husband's she stepped carefully up onto the table, stilettos clicking against glass. He held her hand and looked down at the three figures before him, awaiting their reaction to what he said next.

The Doctor felt despair hit him again, harder than ever before, because he knew – even before the words even came out of the Master's mouth – that only one thing could make him so maniacally, ecstatically happy.

"I've found Martha Jones!"

* * *

**Note:** just as an aside, don't worry: we're not up to the point you might be thinking (that would be a _very_ short year)!

Blog post for this chapter is now active :)


	25. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

The Doctor's head was spinning. The Master's words seemed like something out of his most anxious nightmares, and yet he knew he wasn't dreaming. Martha. All his hopes had rested on her.

"NO!"

He felt himself lose his balance as Martha's mother suddenly lunged past him, her fingers curled into furious claws as she tried desperately to reach the Master's smiling face. Lucy stepped back nervously at the sudden movement, her own smile falling into fear as she saw the hatred etched into the woman's face. Her husband however, stood his ground, watching the panic unfold around him with sheer enjoyment. Tish began to cry.

There was a swift flurry of movement. Martha's mother was suddenly down on her knees, struggling against the guards who held her arms behind her back.

"I'll kill you! You touch a hair on her head, I swear I'll kill you."

"Oh yes, because you look so menacing from down there."

"SAXON!"

"Stop it!"

There was a sudden silence. The last voice had been the Doctor's, and it had been stronger than even he had expected. Tish placed her hand over her mouth to calm herself. The Master's eyes snapped over to the other Timelord, his smile faltering uncertainly.

The Doctor swallowed and stepped forward, feeling every eye in the room burning into him as he moved. Martha's mother stopped struggling as he came and stood beside her, staring up into the manic eyes of the Master; searching them, looking for a lie.

"…He's bluffing."

The Master sneered. "Am I? Are you sure about that, Doctor?"

"This isn't your style." The Doctor raised his eyebrows, his voice growing quieter as he spoke directly to the Timelord on the table. "You've never been one for talking when you could just show. It's just scare tactics. If you had Martha, she'd be here right now."

It was a risk; more a hope than a fact, but he knew the Master; knew his penchant for spectacle. The more he stared into those dark, flashing eyes, the more he was sure he was right.

"Bluffing?" Both Timelords turned their attention to Martha's mother. She bared her teeth in frustration, tear-tracks running down her face in the harsh white light. Her chest heaved with pent-up rage. "He was _bluffing_?"

The Doctor frowned in sympathy at the pain in her face. If he hadn't known the Master as well as he did, he would have been where she was now. Even as the despair had settled itself in his chest, doubt had swept in with it. It had taken the Jones' panic to make him understand.

"That's all it was, Francine." He said to her soothingly. She turned away from them both at the sound of her name, hanging from the guards as the desperation fell away. The Doctor turned back towards the other Timelord, staring into his face with frustrated fury. "He wanted to scare us; make us panic so we'd let something slip."

The Master began to laugh; a silent, dangerous laugh as they looked into each other's eyes. He licked his upper lip, his face torn between amusement and irritation. The Doctor couldn't help but let the relief filter through into his voice when he spoke next. "Martha's safe."

The Master suddenly let go of Lucy's hand, ducking down so that he and the Doctor were face to face. The closeness hit the Doctor like a static shock, but he stood his ground, pushing the connection to the back of his mind. Now wasn't the time to let his instincts get the better of him. He had to be the Doctor.

The Master's lip curled upwards slowly, his eyes wide and glinting in the reflection of the bright sunlight beyond the windows. "_Safe_." He mocked. "Now tell me who's bluffing?"

The Doctor swallowed hard, a pang of guilt rising up in his chest. Of course Martha wasn't safe; it had been a bad choice of words.

"She's still free from you." He whispered into the Master's face. "That's all that matters."

The Master's eye twitched subconsciously, his face contorting in rage at the Doctor's defiance. On instinct, Lucy backed away, her heels clicking against the glass the only noise as the two Timelords stared, unblinking at each other.

Eventually the Master sighed. He bowed his head and smiled, closing his eyes as he bared his teeth. "Not for long. Let her up."

The Doctor held back a sigh of relief as the other Timelord stood up with a pompous snap of his fingers. Martha's mother fell forwards, suddenly released from the grip of the two guards. The Master turned his back, prowling along the table as the Doctor slid to his knees to support Francine. Tish got there first. She held her mother in her arms tightly and helped her to her feet, both of them still shaking from the fear that the Master had so easily instilled in them.

The Doctor watched silently, anxiously as the Master made his way to the far end of the table. Lucy eyed him nervously, still apparently wary of his temper. His lip twitched and he took her hand in his, helping her step back down to the floor.

"Shall we show them, Lucy?"

Lucy closed her eyes slowly. "Oh yes." She breathed.

The other Timelord overheard the words, and anxiety began to fill the space that relief had occupied just moments before. He rose back to his feet, unable to draw his eyes away from the suited figure. He could almost sense the rising excitement; almost hear the Master's pulses inside his head. A terrible cold gripped his stomach, though he guarded himself against showing it. The Master hadn't just brought them here to scare them, he realised. This had just been his idea of entertainment. Whatever they had been brought here for still lay ahead.

Lucy reluctantly let go of her husband's fingers as he stepped regally down from the glass table. She let him pass, watching him with that familiar look of nervous pride as he strode up the steps towards the wide glass windows, and the endless sea of blue that lay beyond.

Francine watched every move he made as Tish helped her back onto her feet. "He's insane." She hissed venomously. The Master looked over his shoulder with an eyebrow raised in contempt.

"Um, yes I think we've established that." He mocked. His eyes flickered over Tish. "A little slow, your mother, isn't she?"

"Leave them alone." Growled the Doctor, stepping into his line of sight. If he could just redirect the Master's attentions onto him…

The Master rolled his eyes.

"Oh… mind your own business, you _pest_!"

"Master…" his eyes widened. He took a few steps closer to the steps, staring into those manic eyes beseechingly; reaching out for the connection like a beacon, something to cling on to. The tone of the Doctor's voice made the other Timelord's brow furrow. He sniffed and looked away. "…this is between you and me. All of this; everything you've done is because of me."

The Master snorted derogatively. "Still as self-important as ever, I see."

The Doctor ignored it. He laid his hand on the railings of the steps. "So please… leave them alone. If you want to take your rage out on me, take it out on _me_. Leave them out of this."

There was a brief pause. The Doctor waited, his breath held as the Master continued to look away, avoiding eye contact. The full meaning of those words seemed to scream out between the two Timelords, even if nobody else understood.

_Jack watched the moment pass between them, understanding the unspoken – to an extent, at least. He'd watched the two of them fighting before, of course: on that day the Master had taken control; but he'd never realised until now the weight of every syllable that passed between them. Every word, every look, every moment of silence had a meaning behind it. How had he missed it?_

_ The Doctor watched himself, matching the expression of desperate frustration as though looking in a mirror. He knew what came next. It was a memory he'd never wanted to revisit, but he knew he had no choice. Not now._

"Master, please." Pushed the Doctor, appealing to the Master's vanity; his sense of superiority. "End this."

The Master pressed his lips together. Lucy looked up to her husband in confusion, her hands clasped together nervously. Tish and Francine held tight to each other for security as they looked at the darkening expression on the Master's face.

Suddenly the Master laughed: a mocking, dangerous laugh that split his face in two. He turned fully and spread his arms out grandly, casting an impressive figure against the wide windows of blue, the newly-placed Gallifreyan insignia shimmering at his back.

"End it?" He laughed, "How _stupid_ do you think I am?"

The Doctor shook his head, still gazing appealingly into his face. "I didn't say you were stupid. Far from it."

"Ah," He smiled sweetly. "You're only after me for my mind."

"What's left of it." Whispered Martha's mother, a little too loudly.

The Master paused, stood in place with the mocking smile still etched into his face. The Doctor gritted his teeth in fear, the only one close enough to see the vein in his jaw beginning to throb angrily.

His eyes moved slowly, almost calmly towards Francine, but the Doctor could hear his breath from here, as though frustration and anger were compressing his chest. His face dropped into a vague and distant glare, and almost trance-like, he reached into his jacket.

"Don't." breathed the Doctor, warningly; desperately, but the Master didn't seem able to hear. He pulled the screwdriver from his pocket and extended his arm, aiming straight at Martha's mother.

* * *

**Note:** Next chapter is being written right now, and should be up within the next 24 hours. Because it's a continuing scene I'll only be posting one blog entry for chapters 22 and 23, which will be available after 23 is posted.

Again I can't say how amazed and grateful I am at the reviews, views and PMs this fanfic is generating. Thank you for the support, and if you're enjoying it please review; it's the best payment I could ever wish for.

Turkaholic


	26. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

The Master's face seemed calm, and yet the Doctor could see through it; see the anger and the madness that emanated from him like a wave. He stared at Francine, holding the screwdriver at arm's length, his head bowed just slightly as he took aim.

Francine understood the danger. Even if she couldn't see the anger the same way the Doctor could, she seemed to feel it as though it were a physical presence. Her eyes widened at the point of the screwdriver and she gasped, taking a step backwards unconsciously. She had seen the damage it could do. She had seen Jack die.

Tish's expression twisted in fear. She tried to place herself between her mother and the Master's threatening arm, but Francine's motherly instinct remained intact: She pushed her daughter from her roughly and stared into the Master's eyes, raising her head proudly, even as tears began to form.

The Doctor clamped his jaw. The Master was beyond words, now; incensed. He considered trying to snatch the screwdriver away from him, but that could put every person in the room in danger, and he already had enough deaths on his conscience. There was only one thing he could do.

Silently, slowly, he began to move. Any sudden movements could push the other Timelord over the edge. He turned his back on the Master, ignoring the instincts of danger that screamed at him to keep him in sight. The presence of the laser screwdriver nudged at his subconscious like a needle in the back of his head.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion. He saw the look of horror on Tish's face as she pulled herself back to her feet; saw surprise grow in the eyes of Francine as he came closer. He placed himself directly in front of her and turned around, eyes levelled at the Master in dark expectation.

He hadn't moved. Everything seemed still, as though the very air around them had frozen in place, just waiting. The Master's arm still extended threateningly, now aiming at the Doctor rather than Francine.

"What are you doing?" She breathed, her voice shaking, but the Doctor didn't reply. He was holding his breath, waiting. The Master had changed in the blink of an eye, and there was nothing to guarantee he was even seeing anything except a target; something to destroy.

The moment extended outwards, the Master's face unmoving. The taller Timelord clenched his fists in preparation for what was to come, and yet a part of him – some small, whispering voice in his head – almost welcomed it. If he was going to die, it hissed, it seemed apt that it would be at the hands of the Master.

Suddenly the Master's brow furrowed. There was the faintest twitch of his fingers as he grasped the screwdriver; an instinctual jerk that seemed beyond his control. He stared furiously into the Doctor's eyes for a moment, and then raised the weapon upwards slowly, shooting at the wall just above his head. It left a black smear on the panel, smoke rising lazily towards the ceiling.

Francine, Tish and Lucy all jumped at the sudden noise. The Doctor didn't. He watched the Master's vacant face carefully, forcing any fear he had back into the recesses of his mind. The danger wasn't over. He stood his ground, blocking Francine from harm as the Master's expression flickered uncertainly.

The Master lowered the screwdriver with an irritated snort. A sour smile appeared on his face. "Of course. You're right, Doctor – what would I do without you?" He tapped the screwdriver against his lips as the smile spread wider. "If that old bird dies now, she'll miss the family reunion."

The Doctor watched him slide the screwdriver back into his pocket. It was only then he allowed himself a silent, guarded sigh.

_"How did you know he wouldn't kill you?"_

_ The Doctor raised his eyes to the ceiling. "I didn't." he said, simply. "I told you: the Master was unstable. Francine just said the wrong thing at the wrong time. It wasn't her fault."_

_ "She hated you."_

_ Finally the Timelord laughed – the first honest laugh that Jack had heard since the memories had begun. "So do a lot of people, but that doesn't mean I'd let them die if I could stop it. Besides –" he looked at Jack with playful humour in his face, "If the Master hadn't killed me, Martha would instead."_

_ Jack laughed nervously. "Oh god. Good point." _

_Both of them watched the scene in silence as the Master held out his hand, beckoning his wife to join him at the head of the steps. Jack's mind, however, was still with the screwdriver._

_ "You didn't even flinch, though." He said eventually. "I _can't_ die, but even I still freak out a little when someone tries to kill me."_

_ The laughter fell from the Doctor's face, and Jack began to wish he hadn't spoken. "There are worse things in this universe than death, Jack." He muttered._

_ Jack smiled bitterly. "I wouldn't know."_

_ The Doctor blinked slowly and looked out at the azure blue sky beyond the Valliant's windows. He raised his eyebrows with a sigh. "I wish I didn't."_

"Now then!" Shouted the Master, suddenly manic once more. "If we're all quite done with the pleasantries, it's time for the show."

Lucy and the Master held hands imperiously as they walked over to the vast windows, staring out at the expanse of sky that lay beyond the Valliant. Behind him, the Doctor heard Martha's mother let out a loud breath of relief. He heard Tish move forward once more to comfort her; heard them whispering together. He stood alone between the two pairs – Tish and her mother; the Master and his wife – and suddenly felt completely, utterly alone.

The Master looked over his shoulder at the lack of movement. "Up you come then, children." He said loudly, with a pompous smile. "You should be honoured: front row seats." His eyes flashed, his voice lowering to a reverent growl. "Come bear witness to your Master's majesty."

The Doctor felt the hair rise on the back of his neck. This was finally it – the reason they'd been summoned. The Master's moods were swinging so dangerously that even he wasn't sure what would be waiting for them out of those windows, but he did know that the other Timelord had an obsessive taste for showmanship, and he was almost certain that the Master would never start without the Doctor as a captive audience.

The Doctor looked to the door. It was guarded by half a dozen, heavily-armed human guards, and he already knew how well the Master had prepared for him – stepping outside that door was a death sentence, even if he could get through. Claustrophobia prodded his insides as Francine and Tish walked reluctantly past him, urged on by the soft click of threatening metal: guns were being cocked.

"Harry has agents working for him in every work camp; every city on the Earth."

The voice broke the claustrophobia. It made him frown in confusion – it had been so unexpected. He'd hardly ever heard Lucy Saxon speak, and when he had it had been directly to her husband, not to an audience. This time, however, those quiet, breathy syllables were directed towards him and the room at large, and they were full of pride.

"Every movement down on the surface," she continued, her cream-coloured dress glowing in the brightness of the distant Sun, "every whisper of rebellion reaches us here."

"…so that's how you're doing it." Muttered the Doctor, darkly. He moved forwards subconsciously, moving closer to the Master as he spoke directly to him. "I'd wondered. Because maintaining this level of control… that takes more than the Archangel network could ever manage."

"_Humans_" spat the Master, his back turned, "so easily corruptible."

"Not all of us." Came Tish's voice, suddenly; a wounded tone in her shaking voice. The Doctor gritted his teeth and ran up the steps to protect her, the sound of steel clanging under his feet. "We're better than that."

The Doctor came to a halt beside Tish at the window, feeling a mixture of pride and fear at her words. He touched her hand comfortingly. The Master's lips twitched downwards into a snarl.

"She's right." Whispered the Doctor, directing the Master's attentions back onto him. "Just because you choose to see the worst in them doesn't mean they're not worth anything."

"Oh Doctor…" snorted the Master, a sneer creeping up his averted face, "always so optimistic. It's sweet… and a bit pathetic."

The Doctor swallowed hard. "Master…"

"No, no no!"

The Master let go of Lucy's hand and snarled, striding over to the Doctor with a dark glare on his face. He licked his lips, thoughtfully. "I'd rather not have to gag you for this," he growled quietly, "but if you insist on _droning on_ like an old woman I'll do it."

The Doctor and the Master looked into each other's eyes darkly for a moment, brows furrowed as some non-verbal fight took place. After a moment the Doctor sighed in frustration and looked away. The Master smirked in triumph.

"Better." He growled, flashing his teeth, and then walked back towards the window, and his waiting wife. She smiled at him as he came closer, looking up into his face in admiration. He slid a finger under her chin and tilted it upwards. "I think it's time, don't you? Let's tell them.

"Earlier today," he continued to the room at large, "my little friends the Toclafane whispered something in my ear: an uprising. Those disgusting little apes actually think they can fight me." He laughed; a humourless sound that fell into silence almost as soon as it started. His lips tilted up into a snarl. "It's time this useless planet realised who they're dealing with."

The Doctor held his tongue, his brain ticking furiously over the options before him. Talking to the Master would be pointless – more than pointless, in fact. He didn't doubt for a second that the Master meant what he said about gagging him. There was a glint of euphoria in the Master's eyes now; dangerous and volatile. There was nothing he could do until he knew exactly what the Master had planned, and even then he couldn't guarantee that whatever his options were, they would keep Tish and Francine safe.

"Behold!" Whispered the Master loudly, his voice full of arrogance. He spread his arms wide, casting them outwards slowly. "As I baptise my new dominion in blood."

Finally, the Doctor allowed himself to follow the Master's line of sight downwards, out of the windows and down towards the distant surface. A cold, creeping dread spread through his body as he realised what it was he was looking at.

Far below them, the sea sparkled and glittered like a thousand trembling sapphires, catching the rays of the Sun in a spectacular display of natural beauty. Dotted among the sapphires were pedestals of green, although scorched and charred; tortured by the Master's first assault on the surface.

Francine frowned in confusion. Tish gasped quietly and turned to the Doctor, looking into his wide, frowning eyes nervously.

"Hang on… isn't that-"

"Japan." Growled the Doctor. He finally understood.

* * *

**Note: ** Before you ask - yes, there will be more Master/Doctor sexy bits in this story, but let me tell it my way, ok? I know what I'm doing... sometimes.

Blog post for these chapters is also up. You can find the link on my profile.


	27. Chapter 24

**Note: **I'm really _really _sorry for how short this is, but I had it written and wanted to get it up before I have to take a break (uni deadlines loom. Ugh.)

As way of an apology for this, the next chapter includes handcuffs.

**Chapter 24**

_"…Japan?"_

_Jack's heart sank. He'd never seen it, of course: being chained to a wall, far below the deck of the Valiant, but he'd been told. A shiver went up his spine as the Doctor pulled his eyes away from the scene, heavily lidded with sadness. Jack felt as though he was going to be sick. "I don't wanna watch this!"_

_The Doctor frowned, as though something bitter was on the tip of his tongue. "You think I do?" He breathed. Jack realised his chest was heaving in emotion. "You think I enjoyed this? You think I want to revisit memories like this? My whole _planet_ burned, Jack." He snapped, his eyes full of anger. Jack hesitated. "But this is the only way I can make you understand." _

_Jack frowned in confusion. "I thought this was about you and the Master!"_

_"It is! Don't you understand?" The Doctor sighed through his gritted teeth, the anger fading slowly from his eyes. "I can't just show you the parts I want to remember. I wish I could... but everything we're watching has to be shown. Telling half the story would serve no purpose."_

_Jack swallowed back the thousands of questions that filled his head as the Doctor lowered his eyes to the floor._

_ "So… there is a purpose?"_

_ "Oh yes." Muttered the Timelord, distractedly._

_"...Are you ever gonna tell me?"_

_There was a long silence. The Doctor avoided Jack's eyes pointedly, resting his back against the wall of the Valiant, his arms crossed defensively. Jack sighed in frustration. "Fine. Take me back."  
_

_The Doctor raised his eyes, looking into Jack's uncertainly._

_"Take me back! You've obviously decided I'm not worth sharing information with, so maybe you'd prefer to take this little trip alone."_

_The Doctor hesitated, pressing his tongue into the back of his teeth anxiously. "...I can't tell you." He whispered._

_"How many times have I followed you into danger? No questions; so second-guesses. I just did what you asked, and that was fine! Because I trusted you; because I knew that whatever happened, it was for a reason." Jack was shouting now, the pent-up frustration and anger spilling from his mouth. He wasn't even sure why he was shouting; who his anger was really meant for. "And the one time - the one time I ask for a reason - you shut me down."  
_

_ The Doctor shifted uncomfortably and shook his head. "I can't tell you until it's time!" He snapped. "There are things that I can't tell you - no matter how much easier it would make this." He muttered, almost to himself. He looked into Jack's face, his brow knotted. "You're free to leave. I won't stop you; but if you do, I'm... stuck."_

_ The final word came out in staccato; echoing through the air with no more weight than a click of the fingers. Despite this, it lingered in Jack's head. Something was off; it had been off since he'd first set eyes on the Doctor, that night in the bar._

_ "...You could always ask someone else."_

_"Like who?" Mused the Timelord; a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "Besides," he sighed, "It's too late for that."_

_ There was a pause. The scene around them was frozen; the figures on the bridge suspended in place. Jack hadn't even realised that the Doctor had stopped the memory, he'd been too angry. Eventually Jack slid a hand through his hair, the anger and frustration subsiding as he looked at the pain in the Doctor's face._

_"So you'll tell me? Eventually?"_

_The Timelord seemed to sense the change. His eyes lidded tiredly. "I can't force you to watch this."_

_ Jack's lips twitched weakly. "I'd be lying through my teeth if I said I wanted to."_

_ The Doctor's frown grew deeper._

_ "-but… I know you wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."_

_ The Timelord watched him for a moment, considering the other man's face carefully. He smiled weakly; gratefully and stretched out his long, pale fingers towards him in silence._

_ Jack slowly slid his fingers into the Doctor's in way of a silent apology. They felt cold, but still something about them made Jack feel calmer. The scene jumped back into life, and the captain felt his stomach churn at what he was about to witness._


	28. Chapter 25

**Chapter 24 has been rewritten slightly (26/10/14). It might be worth going back for a look.**

* * *

**Chapter 25**

The Master's face was elated; blissful as he stared down at the islands that lay far below them, his head tilted upwards in a superior smirk. The Doctor looked away from the windows and into his eyes, a painfully dark frown contorting his face as he read the meaning there.

"Doctor…" Tish whispered over his shoulder. "What's he going to do?"

The Doctor didn't want to answer. Answering it made it true; made the Master's thoughts into reality. His face twisted into a look of disappointment and disgust as the other Timelord turned towards them, his lip curled. He seemed to understand the Doctor's thoughts.

"Tell them."

The words fell like gunshots inside the Doctor's head. He stood, paralysed for a moment, his fists clenched. The Master's eyes flashed dangerously.

"Tell them, Doctor!"

"I'm not your messenger!" Snapped the Doctor furiously. "Tell them yourself!"

The Master paused at the sudden anger in the Doctor's voice. He sniffed in irritation. After a moment he sighed and began to pull off his tie. "Right, that's it. I'm gagging you."

The Doctor looked in sudden panic as the Master slid the tie off his shoulders and began to advance on him, holding the fabric threateningly between his fingers. Every instinct the Doctor had told him to run, but even as he considered the option he felt cold metal nudge into the base of his back: he hadn't even realised he'd been moving backwards, but suddenly he was pressed up against the railings that lined the bridge. He'd cornered himself.

"Master, just listen to me." He breathed nervously as the other Timelord came closer, his eyes full of irritation. The Doctor shook his head, eyes wide. "You're about to make a huge mistake. Just-"

But the Master wasn't listening. He moved the last few inches forwards, pressing the Doctor up against the railings roughly with his body weight. He snorted. "I don't know why I didn't do this a long time ago." He growled quietly, trying to force the fabric in between the Doctor's teeth. The taller Timelord twisted his head aside. "That mouth of yours-" He tried again, forcing the Doctor's head back over the railings with the force of his hands. The Doctor gasped against the material as it jammed into his mouth, his eyes wide as he felt the Master's fingers slip behind his head, tying . "…so irritating."

The Doctor made a muffled noise of protest as the Master pulled the tie furiously tight across his mouth, but he could feel his tongue forced down against the bottom of his mouth. He couldn't speak.

The Master pulled his fingers away from the Doctor's head, looking into his wide eyes with appreciation at his handiwork. His lip twitched in amusement at the look on the Doctor's face. He raised an eyebrow. "It looks good on you." He murmured, low enough for the Doctor's ears only. The Doctor could only glare back, helplessly as the Master placed his hands back on his temples, forcing their heads close as he stared almost seriously into his eyes. "Maybe you'll _finally_ learn your lesson."

They stood there for a moment, the Doctor sensing the Master's body warmth pressed roughly up against his; tasting the blood in his mouth where the material had torn roughly against his lips. He could sense the faint whisper to submit nagging in his ear, but he pushed it away: the image of the islands far below them was stamped into his mind. They had no idea what was about to happen to them. He had to do something.

The Master went to back away, and the Doctor felt the pressure of the railings ease against his back. Instinctively he went to raise his hands, desperate to remove the gag; to make the Master listen to reason. It was too soon. The Master's eyes snapped down to the reaching fingers and he grabbed them with a frustrated sigh.

"Will someone _please_ tie his hands?" He shouted over the Doctor's shoulder, his eyebrows raised in exasperation. The Doctor's arms were suddenly forced behind his back. Cold metal wrapped itself around his wrists and he felt himself struggling against the force. The Master stepped back and watched, enjoying the look of realisation as it entered the Doctor's face. "…they do have a habit of getting in the way."

With a last flash of enjoyment, the Master turned away, leaving the Doctor trying to shout after him, muffled against the gag; struggling uselessly against the handcuffs that now pinned him against the railings. A rising wave of horror was washing over him, and he finally stopped struggling as the idea flushed out every other thought in his head:

Japan was going to burn. There was nothing he could do.


	29. Chapter 26

**Note:**I'm currently looking for someone who can do me some cover art for this fic. I suck at drawing, and as yummy as the Master looks up there, it would be nice to have a proper cover. Details of what I'm looking for can be found on my profile.

Blog chapter is now active. That can be found on my profile, too.

**Chapter 26**

Burning light streamed through the Valiant's windows; plumes of smoke miles wide shimmered and snaked their way into the atmosphere, casting black shadows on the once blue seas below. The very islands twisted and contorted in the heat, the shoreline boiling in a venomous mist.

Japan was burning. It was gone.

Francine and Tish stood at the windows, every muscle shaking at the horrors they bore witness to, and yet unable to look away. The red, flickering light cast all their faces in bloody hues; the flames burning into their eyes, as if the image wanted to scorch itself into their memories.

The Doctor watched the scene as if from a distance, forcing the reality of it away from himself. It was the only way he knew how to survive: to force the horrors he had seen into his subconscious, like a half-remembered dream. He could feel a thin trickle of blood run down his lip, seeping into the make-shift gag until his mouth seemed full of metal. His shoulders ached, forced back unnaturally against the rail. The handcuffs dug into his wrists like sharp teeth, and he could feel the dull ache of powerlessness pounding against the insides of his chest. These were the things he clung to – physical sensations – the discomfort; the pain. Thinking about what lay outside those windows would be too much to bear.

"What do you think?"

The voice made the Doctor tense. His eyes flashed towards the Master, standing with his head bowed, a half-smile on his lips.

Lucy gasped, pressing her fingers to her own chest. "It's beautiful." She whispered, awe-struck. Even so, the Doctor saw the glint of tears as they ran down her pale cheeks. The Master didn't notice: his hands were clasped behind his back, his fingers drumming violently against the flesh.

The Doctor arched his neck against the tie in his mouth. It tasted of the Master's skin; it smelled of him. The Timelord's eyes rolled as he tried to nudge it away against thin air, looking everywhere but out of the windows. The Master wanted him to watch; wanted to wear him down. In the Master's twisted head this was still a competition, the Doctor knew: everything was a game, as though part of the Master still thought they were children. He stared at the back of the other Timelord's head, trying furiously to shake off the gag. He needed to speak to him; make him realise what he was doing.

As though sensing the Doctor's eyes on him, the Master turned; half of his face lit up in brilliant red light as he surveyed the Doctor's face. He watched him struggle against the handcuffs, trying to speak, but this time there was no enjoyment, no amusement in his face. His eyes flickered as their eyes met and he swallowed, as if about to speak; but all too soon the moment passed and he turned away, his frown deepening as his eyes narrowed on the black and red sky.

_Jack was holding tightly to the Doctor's fingers, his knuckles white as the scene unfolded._

_ "That's a bit weird." said the Doctor, in the same tone of voice of someone commenting on the weather. "I don't remember crying."_

_ Jack followed the Timelord's line of sight – he was looking into his own face, examining the streaks of wet running down his cheeks as he stared at the Master._

_ A strange thought passed through Jack's mind. At first he shrugged it off, but the more he looked into the desperate face of the Doctor, the more the thought prodded at him, until he couldn't stay silent. He bit his lip before he spoke._

_ "You weren't crying for yourself, were you?"_

_ The Doctor frowned guiltily. His chest heaved out a silent breath. "I dunno. Maybe it was just the light burning my eyes."_

_ "Doctor."_

_ The Timelord's eyes narrowed at himself. "Millions of people were dying. I was crying for them."_

_ Something in the Doctor's tone told Jack that there was more to be said. He moved his head closer. "…and?"_

_ "And… a little of it was for him." He sniffed. "Maybe."_

_ Jack snorted. "Am I meant to feel sorry for him now?"_

_ "Oh no," muttered the Doctor darkly, giving Jack a sideways glance, "but I've had that taste of madness in my mouth; all those urges, all that anger… all those screaming voices inside your head. I understood him better then than he ever wanted me to."_

_ There was a pause. Jack felt even more confused than when he'd first opened his mouth. "You never told me. I mean – I had no idea you were ever…" He trailed off. Calling the Doctor insane seemed surreal, somehow unbelievable. Jack watched in confusion as the Doctor's face rose into a half-smile._

_ "I was forced to destroy my own people." He said softly. "…wouldn't that send you insane?"_


	30. Chapter 27

**Note:** Sorry for the double posting - I've been having technical problems with the site (probably my own fault). It should be all sorted now.

Chapter 28 has been deleted temporarily. This is due to the suckiness of it. I'm currently rewriting it, and it should be up very soon. Sorry. I have flu, and writing characters as complicated and charismatic as these two while you're sick is not a great idea.

Until next chapter,

_Turkaholic_

**Chapter 27**

The Doctor couldn't tell how long they stood there, but it seemed an eternity. All he knew was that his shoulders were screaming in pain; the blood on his lip congealing, and his fingers were numb and cold as the handcuffs cut into his wrists. He turned his face away from the Master and stared at a distant wall. There was nothing he could have done, he knew that; but part of him still filled with guilt as he heard Francine and Tish's heavy, laboured breathing from nearby. Martha had trusted him to keep them safe.

"…And they looked up towards the heavens," said the Master, a tone of arrogant superiority in his quiet voice, "and saw the sky was filled with fire. And they knew… that their Lord and Master had visited his wrath upon the Earth."

He raised his chin, eyes narrowed as the islands began to crumble into the blackening sea. He let out a sigh and turned his back slowly on the destruction he had caused, staring into space thoughtfully.

Lucy Saxon still stood at the windows, her eyes wide and her lips parted as she stared downwards. Tish stood with her palms pressed against the pane of glass; her mother simply stood, hatred and sadness mingling in her expression.

The Doctor felt a nudge at his subconscious and turned his head back towards the steps. The Master stood there, watching him almost curiously in the silence. Their eyes met and they stared at each other for a moment, while human eyes were elsewhere. The Doctor looked into him, unable to keep the disappointment out of his expression. The other Timelord's frown deepened and his lip twitched upwards bitterly. He looked away.

"Showtime's over." He muttered. He waved his hand towards the guards at the door. They moved forwards at his command, raising guns slowly as they walked towards the steps. The Master strode past them and threw himself into one of the chairs at the table, facing away from the windows.

Francine and Tish pulled themselves away from the scene reluctantly, as though drawn to it like a magnet. The Doctor tried to apologise as best he could without speech: his eyes wide as they turned; his jaw clenching even as the tie pulled painfully at the corners of his mouth. He could see the horror and shock etched into their every feature. He knew the look far too well.

Tish raised her eyes to his as she passed, her eyes wide and full of tears. The Doctor tried to fight against the gag once more, wanting nothing more than to tell her how sorry he was. Martha's mother simply glanced at him disgustedly and took her daughter's hand, leading her down the steps, out of the Doctor's line of sight.

The Doctor raised his eyes to the ceiling once they had gone, allowing himself a guilty sigh. Nobody came to free him.

The Master rested his arm on the glass table, sitting back with his lips pressed together hard. As the two Jones' passed he raised his hand. "Get them some uniforms." He muttered boredly, raising an eyebrow. "There are too many guns and not enough cocktails on this ship."

And then the Jones' were gone; the door sliding shut behind them.

The Master watched the door silently for a moment, glaring at it. "Lucy."

The Doctor hadn't even realised she was still there. She had been so silent, barely moving as she continued to stare out of the window. The Master's wife jumped at the sound of her name. She tore her eyes away and looked over her shoulder at him.

The Master began to tap his fingers against the glass impatiently as she made her way down the steps towards him. The sound resonated around the suddenly empty room.

Lucy moved in front of him with a look of confusion. His expression changed in an instant: he looked into her face thoughtfully, and then smiled vaguely. He twitched his head in the direction of the Doctor. "You go ahead, I want to take the puppy back to his kennel."

She paused in place for a moment, her eyes flickered upwards over her husband's head nervously, glancing at the Doctor still handcuffed to the railings. Eventually she acquiesced, the edges of her lips tilting upwards just slightly as she looked into the Master's eyes. A moment later she was gone; glancing back into the room one final time as she walked away, and she disappeared behind the closing door.


	31. Chapter 28

**Note:** Painkillers are wonderful things. If you didn't read the first version of this chapter, you have _no idea_ how much more pleased I am with this version.

Also, I'd just like to say - without spoilers - that recent... _events_ have no bearing on what I've written or will write here. If you already know, or are spoiler-friendly, you can find my opinion on the recent developments on my blog (On a separate page - I'm considerate).

Blog chapters for 27 and 28 are also up.

See you when I'm better,

_Turkaholic_

* * *

**Chapter 28**

The Doctor could do nothing but listen to Lucy's clattering footsteps fade into silence, leaving nothing but the low, monotonous purr of the engines behind her. He swallowed hard, regret and sadness rising up in his chest. The loss of life had been unnecessary, simply a spectacle in the Master's campaign of terror on the surface. His thoughts drifted to Martha, as they often did, only this time the hope she gave him was mixed with guilt. She'd trusted him to keep her family safe, and now they were damaged.

The Master continued to stare at the door long after Lucy had gone; leaning back in his chair with a deep frown on his face.

"My faithful companion." He muttered eventually. "I wonder where yours is now, Doctor."

The Doctor let out a frustrated sigh, the sound of it carrying across the room. The Master stuck his tongue between his teeth and smirked at the sound, though it faded almost as soon as it appeared on his face.

"Our brave little medical student. I have to say, you taught her well." His face turned sour. A humourless sneer appeared on his face. "Running… hiding. Don't suppose you'd tell me where she is, then?"

There was a silence. The Doctor shifted uncomfortably against the handcuffs as he heard the Master snort bitterly. "Of course not." He sighed and arched his eyebrows. "I could torture it out of you, I suppose." He said idly.

The Doctor's brow furrowed hard, his hearts skipping a beat at the Master's words. Physical pain wasn't what bothered him – he'd experienced enough of it to be prepared; but if the Master was willing to actively torture him, then a line would be crossed. There would be no going back.

The Master looked up at the blank white ceiling, pouting thoughtfully as he swung on his chair. "...but that would take so _long." _After a moment, he sucked his teeth loudly. "You know, I thought it would make a nice change to keep you quiet, but really, it's just as irritating as the nagging."

The Doctor heard movement behind him. He leaned against the railings, easing his shoulders as best he could as the Master walked slowly back up the steps towards him. He wasn't sure what to expect – the Master's mood had been almost franticly inconsistent these last few hours – but he knew he needed to speak to him. There had to be a chance; some slim chance that the Master could be convinced to end this.

Slowly, the Master made his way towards the other Timelord, a thin smile pulling at one side of his mouth as he took in the effect. The Doctor simply glared defiantly, furiously.

"Why Doctor," He mumbled, almost affectionately. His throat seemed to constrict and his eyebrows arched. "You're a work of art."

The Doctor gritted his teeth against the tie and looked away, staring out of the window at the blood red sky, watching the spiralling curls of smoke as they passed the Valiant. The tie pulled at his mouth once more, and a fresh drop of blood formed at the side of his mouth. The Master's eyes snapped to it. He frowned.

The Doctor's head jerked away as he felt the Master's finger touch his jaw. The reaction made the shorter Timelord's mouth tighten.

"This was your own fault." He whispered, a childish, accusatory edge to his voice. His hand swept across the unnaturally dark stain that smeared the Doctor's lip. "You've never been one for obeying orders, I know. Even when we were kids… always running away from the things you couldn't control."

The Doctor's brow furrowed almost painfully hard at the sound of the Master's words, at his tone. He turned back to look at him, eyes flickering across his face as though looking for something.

They stared at each other in silence for a moment. The Master's eyes narrowed just a fraction, then he pulled his finger away from the Doctor's face and stared down at it, smearing the dark red stain between his finger and thumb. When he next spoke, there was something conflicted in his tone. "And now look at where it's got you." He raised the fingers to his mouth, sucking the blood away. "It'd be sad if it weren't so funny."

The Doctor watched him carefully. Despite his words, there was nothing amused in the Master's face at all. It was as though the chaos and destruction he'd inflicted on the Earth had acted like a safety valve, releasing all the pent-up fury and insanity in one fell swoop. Now the madness just seemed to be bubbling beneath the surface.

The Master's face suddenly changed. His expression became intense and he stepped forwards, grabbing the Doctor's temples roughly and pulling him forwards. The Doctor made a muffled sound into the gag as the sudden tug yanked at his shoulders. The next moment, both Timelords were forehead to forehead.

They both closed their eyes for a moment at the physical contact, but the Master's soon snapped open again, glaring seriously into the Doctor's conflicted expression. He sighed loudly and twitched his head. "Learn your place."

The Master kept his fingers against the Doctor's head; closing his eyes once more as the silence stretched out. The Doctor swallowed back temptation to lean in to the touch, no matter how much he wanted to. On some level even he couldn't fully understand, he knew that reciprocation right now was tantamount to giving in; handing himself over to the Master completely. There was a moment of panic in his chest as the urge became almost painfully strong.

He acted on impulse, desperation overriding his strong sense of morality as the whisper to submit grew into a shout in his head. He had no option but to try one last, desperate attempt to communicate.

The Doctor felt the Master's forehead against his own, concentrating on that sensation; distancing himself from the pain in his arms, the hum of the engines, the horror outside the windows, and almost too easily the world around him seemed to fade away.

It had been so many centuries since they'd last done this, but the memory of it was enough. He sensed the other Timelord's mind – almost relieved that there was still enough left to sense – and tried to press his thoughts forwards.

The Master jumped as if he'd been electrocuted. His hands snapped backwards and he almost stumbled, backing away from the Doctor as if he was suddenly contagious.

It took a moment for the Doctor to find his way back to reality. He opened his eyes slowly, the bright red light of the sky burning his eyes after the darkness.

The Master had backed almost as far as the windows, despite the fact that the Doctor couldn't move. For a moment he seemed stunned into silence; a flicker of fear hiding behind his eyes. He ran his tongue along his upper lip slowly.

"Now that," he said eventually, "was _rude._"

_"What the hell just happened?" Jack said, walking towards the two men, trying to work out what he'd missed. The Doctor brushed a hand down his own jaw._

_ "Sorry. Should have explained. Timelords have the ability to reach into other people's minds."_

_ Jack looked over his shoulder incredulously. He raised an eyebrow. "You're telepathic?"_

_ "Well… not exactly. We need physical touch for it to work – and most of the time the other person has to be willing."_

_ There was a pause. "Huh."_

_"What?"_

_"It's just..." he shook his head, "how can I have known you this long, and not known?"_

_"It's not exactly something that comes up in every day conversation."_

_"And how often do you have one of those?"_

_The Doctor looked away thoughtfully and nodded. "Good point."_

_Jack couldn't help but smile. Even after all this time, the Timelord never failed to surprise him. "So… what did you say to him?"_

_ The Timelord hesitated. "Nothing." Came the bitter reply. He eyed the Master almost resentfully. "He blocked me out. Ran away from it as fast as possible."_

_ Jack sighed in sympathy. He could understand what the look on the Doctor's face signified. "I guess it would have been pretty useful to know what was going through his head."_

_ The Doctor's face filled for a second with regret, hidden from Jack's view behind his back._

_ "Oh I can guess." He said in a small voice._

_ "Don't suppose you're gonna share?"_

_The Doctor clamped his jaw shut pointedly. Jack simply sighed. "Okay, now I wish _I _was telepathic."_

_ Something about the statement brought a reluctant smile to the Doctor's face. His eyes softened as he moved his eyes to the back of Jack's head. "Well… Maybe you can learn someday."_


	32. Chapter 29

**Note:** Thank you so much for the support I've had so far. I just wanted to say that, since from this point on, my writing will be slowing down considerably. I'm sorry, but deadlines for uni are rushing up now, and I need to concentrate on that.

Please please _please_ let me know what you think so far. You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear from people who read my work, and it helps me, too.

I'm not sure how many of you have now seen the Season Eight finale, but when I'm sure that I'm not going to spoil it for anyone, there are a few points about this fanfic I intend to make. Trying to bite my tongue about this is so very very frustrating.

_Turkaholic_

**Chapter 29**

The two Timelords stared at each other silently for a moment; the Master framed against the fading red sky as the fear and confusion faded slowly from his expression. The Doctor frowned almost painfully as he recognised the expression on the other man's face. He'd never seen the Master look so afraid.

"You need to learn some manners." Growled the Master, the fear turning to anger as his lip curled. He strode forwards and pressed a finger against the Doctor's forehead hard. His teeth bared. "Keep your useless little thoughts inside your own head."

The Doctor swallowed against the gag, backing away from the finger as best he could. The Master's eye twitched and he pressed his lips together. "Now, let's see if we've learned our lesson yet."

Now it was the Doctor's turn to look confused. He felt the Master's fingers slip around to the back of his head, fumbling with something. A moment later, the painful pressure finally eased against the Doctor's mouth.

He hissed as the Master pulled away the tie, the dried blood at the corner of his mouth peeling back with it. His tongue felt raw and bruised; his lips cracked and dry. The Master watched as the Doctor worked his jaw gingerly. It ached.

The Master sighed in impatience. He arched his eyebrows. "Can you talk? Or is there a god somewhere up there that finally answered my prayers?"

The Doctor glared at him, licking the blood from the corners of his mouth before he answered.

"Those people down there didn't have to die."

The Master rolled his eyes and pushed the tie back into the Doctor's mouth, holding it there with his hand. The Doctor gasped. "Right," he said loudly, "let's try that again shall we?" He snatched the tie away once more, throwing it to the floor. "Now. Manners."

"Why did you do it?"

There was a brief pause. The Master looked at the frustration in the Doctor's face and pressed his lips together tightly. "Oh, and now suddenly the Doctor thinks _I_ need to explain myself to _him_." He raised an eyebrow mockingly. "You know, maybe I should leave you there for a few days. Might teach you to respect your betters."

The Doctor leaned forwards against the handcuffs, ignoring the screaming pain that was growing stronger in his arms. He could no longer feel his fingers. "Gallifrey burned. Our own _people-_"

"-and whose fault was that?" snapped the Master childishly, his face coming within inches of the Doctor's own. The taller Timelord stopped short. His eyes flickered across the Master's face, his lips parted as the words sank in.

"…I did what I had to." He breathed. "I swear, it was the only way; it was. But this -" He gritted his teeth, his voice shaking with emotion as it grew louder, "this was just murder for murder's sake! You destroyed an entire country just because you could!"

The Master's face lifted into a bitter smirk. "Oh I do love it when you get cross." He leaned in, eyes wide. "Do it again."

The Doctor sighed through his gritted teeth and shook his head. "Master…" his voice dropped to a confiding whisper. The Master closed his eyes and smiled at the sound of his name. The Doctor ignored it. "…just look at what you've done. Deep, deep down, some part of you must know this is wrong."

The Master stared at him for a moment as some unknown emotion flickered across his face. His smile turned sour and he moved forwards, placing the palm of his hand on his chest. The Doctor fell back against the railings with a hollow thud. The Master followed him forwards, pressing himself against him, the same way he had done what seemed like an eternity ago – when the handcuffs had first been put on. He leaned in to the Doctor's ear. The taller Timelord panted, unable to stop himself shuddering at the sudden touch.

The Master closed his eyes. He nudged against the Doctor's head for a moment. "Do you remember," he mumbled, "all those years ago, before the Time War…" The Master breathed in to the Doctor's ear, "you were always getting in my way. Entire galaxies burned in my wake as we fought across the stars…" he paused, his throat tightening as he looked almost reverently upwards. The Doctor swallowed hard. Suddenly the Master let out a soft, mocking laugh. "What makes you think that _anything_ has changed?"

The Doctor felt the warmth of the Master's breath on his neck, felt their bodies pressed together and reacted to it in spite of himself. Even as the frustration and sadness lingered in his head, his eyes rolled backwards and he closed them. He knew he'd passed the point of pretending the connection didn't still exist, but that didn't mean the Doctor didn't hate himself for it.

The Master's fingers clutched at the other Timelord's chest. A vague smirk rose at the lack of resistance, and his hand began to move slowly downwards. The Doctor's muscles twitched under them.

In the taller Timelord's head, panic began to flutter, torn between the urge to give in and the desperate – almost physical – fear of it. He couldn't allow the Master another victory, not like this. If he let the Master in right now – after something so horrific – then he'd never forgive himself: he'd lose his mind. He thought of Tish, Francine, Jack… Martha. His stomach churned as he opened his eyes once more, forcing himself to look out of the window at the devastation below. His brow knotted.

"I didn't say it had," he whispered, forcing the words out with all the mental strength he had. The other Timelord's hand paused on the Doctor's stomach.

The next words out of the Doctor's mouth were risky, he knew it all too well: the Master was unstable now beyond anything he'd ever seen before; but he'd seen that fear in the Master's face, seen the way he pulled back from the connection, and he knew what it meant. It was a faint glimmer of hope, and that was all he'd ever needed. "but that doesn't stop me from being right."


	33. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

The Doctor felt the Master's fingers against his stomach, frozen in place. He could hear the other Timelord's breath against his ear, and yet there was no movement. For a moment, the Doctor wondered whether he had pushed a step too far.

The Master moved forwards, pressing the Doctor's back harder into the rails. He twitched his head forwards, snake-like, to push his lips against the Doctor's ear. The fingernails dug in. "You see?" he muttered; his voice soft and quiet, and yet dangerous. "This is why you're tied to a post right now." The Doctor heard him sigh. His voice lowered to a whisper, his voice almost quivering. "Learn to behave yourself, Doctor."

"…and then what?" growled the taller Timelord thickly. Even as angry – as horrified – as he was with what the Master had done, the proximity brought back all those ancient instincts he had fought so long and so hard to subdue. He allowed himself the smallest of reactions – leaning in to the Master's voice.

The Master's lip twitched slightly at the reaction. He looked up at the side of the Doctor's face in dark affection. "Oh I don't know… maybe…" his voice dropped even further, into a deep, quiet growl. He brushed his lips against the Doctor's ear, "…if you're a _very_ good boy…" the Doctor clenched his jaw, "…I'll stop having to _tie you to the furniture."_

And suddenly the Master was gone. He pushed the Doctor back into the railings one more time for good measure, and then turned his back, scowling as he strode back towards the window.

The Doctor took a moment to recover, his mind cloudy, still full of the Master's voice. When he finally realised what had happened the other Timelord was against the window, both palms pressed to it as he stared out at the fading red sky.

The Doctor sighed – mostly in relief. If he had actually given in to the other Timelord right now, in this position, he knew there would be no coming back from it. Even so, there was the tiniest nudge of regret in the back of his mind, no matter how much the Doctor wanted to deny it.

There was a long silence. The Master stood, staring out at the black water below them. The blood red sky faded slowly into a deep violet, and then dark, velvet blue; the first stars showing in the sky. The Doctor looked out at them thoughtfully. It had been morning when he'd first set foot in this room. He wasn't one for losing track of time – it was almost a basic instinct to a Timelord – but so much had happened that he'd lost his purchase on it.

He grunted – a quiet, barely noticeable noise as the pain in his shoulders became almost too much to bear. The Master shifted just slightly.

For the first time since he'd been handcuffed, the Doctor flexed his fingers against whatever he'd been tied to, feeling it out; sensing it carefully. He raised his eyes in relief as he found that he had some level of manoeuvrability: it was one of the poles, not just the rail.

Holding back a noise of pain, he slid downwards against the pole; the handcuffs screaming as metal ground against metal. The Master looked over his shoulder, watching as the Doctor placed himself gingerly on the floor, his head bowed as he rolled the aches and pains out of his arms. Eventually he looked away again, resting his head against the pane of glass.

"Did it make you feel better?" asked the Doctor eventually, his voice low and curious. The Master's nose wrinkled upwards.

"What?"

"Killing all those people. Did it make you feel better?"

The Master sighed irritably. He ran his teeth over his upper lip before he answered. "Yes. It did, now that you come to mention it."

The Doctor let the answer settle in the air for a moment. Despite the Master's offhanded tone, he knew that he meant it. "But it won't last. Eventually all that anger and hate will come back, and this will have achieved absolutely nothing."

The Master continued to stare out of the window for a second more, then turned away from it, looking down at the Timelord on the floor in front of him. He pouted slightly, playfully. "Oh now that's not true. It was pretty!"

The Doctor's brow furrowed, his wide eyes catching the dim light of the stars. "When was the last time you slept?" He said incredulously.

The Master's face broke into a smile and he laughed as he walked back towards him. "…with who?"

The Doctor ignored the obvious bait and bared his teeth. "- and I mean a proper, dreamless, _good_ night's sleep; not just a few hours stolen away in the dark when you're too exhausted to do anything else."

The Master paused in his slow advance, his smile falling. "Oh and I suppose you'd know all about it?" he muttered, sarcasm in his tone. The Doctor's jaw opened slowly. His face softened as he looked into the Master's eyes.

"…Yes." He said softly, his tone thick with sympathy.

The Master looked away, staring above the Doctor's head as his jaw tightened. He narrowed his eyes at the distant scorch mark that still adorned the wall.

"Master, I can give you that." He breathed, desperation in his voice. The Master's mood had changed again, and the Doctor felt his chest rise in hope. He leaned forwards subconsciously against the cuffs. "Honestly, I can. Just let me go; let me help you."

The Master's lip suddenly twitched upwards bitterly. "You tried that."

The words were unexpected, and they made the Doctor's hearts stop for a moment. The Master had always taken such pains to avoid their past, and everything connected to it. For centuries it had always been about the anger, the violence; the bloodshed. The taller Timelord looked up at him and forced himself to speak. The unspoken regret of nearly a thousand years finally fell from his tongue.

"…I didn't try hard enough."

The words came out in a broken whisper, but they seemed so loud in the Doctor's head. They were words that had hidden away in his subconscious, never really leaving him; only hiding there, reappearing in his head every time their paths had crossed. He had never said it until now, and he wasn't sure whether it made him feel better or worse to finally admit it.

The Master's throat tightened as he stared at the scorch mark on the wall. He seemed to roll his tongue around his mouth as if thinking of what to say. Eventually he lowered his eyes to the floor, raising an eyebrow as a vague look of distaste pulled at his lips.

"It's too late."

"It's never too late." Growled the Doctor vehemently. His eyes flickered desperately across the other man's face, silently pleading that the Master would finally back down.

The Master's face suddenly changed. A look of disgust pushed its way past the confusion and he raised his eyes to the Doctor's face. "Could you get any more insipid? I think I'm going to be sick."

The Doctor's look of hope slowly faded from his face. His brow furrowed.

"Oh, I'm sorry," sneered the Master, "did I ruin the mood? Was I meant to see the error of my ways and beg your forgiveness?" He slid onto his knees in front of the other Timelord and laughed bitterly. "Really Doctor, at least I _know_ I'm insane."

The Doctor sighed. After a moment a soft smile made its way across his face. The Master's eye twitched.

"Oh Master…" he said quietly, "when have you ever needed to _beg_ my forgiveness?"

The Master stared into the smile and his face darkened dangerously. He suddenly snatched forwards and grabbed a handful of the Doctor's hair. "It's you that should be begging _me_." He snapped. "You always were so very good at it."

The Doctor winced at the sudden pressure, panting at it, but he kept his eyes open, staring at him defiantly. He licked his cracked lips and raised an eyebrow. "Why does that scare you so much?"

The Master's entire face contorted furiously. "_Nothing_ scares me."

"You're shaking."

The Master laughed coldly, fury in his eyes. "You're lying."

"You know I'm not."

There was a pause. The two Timelords stared at each other, unblinking. This time, it was the Master who looked away first. He dropped his hand from the Doctor's hair.

"Fine." He muttered. He placed his hands on his knees and pulled himself back to his feet, staring down at the Doctor as though he were something repulsive. "…Stay there. Enjoy the view."

The shorter Timelord straightened his jacket, cracked his neck and began to make his way down the steps.

The Doctor waited until the Master had turned away, and then bowed his head, screwing his eyes shut in sheer frustration. He'd come so close – he could almost taste it in the air. The Master had been wavering, almost convinced, and then it had been snatched away. And this was his punishment for trying: being left alone in the dark; the only company the smouldering remains of what he'd been unable to save.

"…Wait."

The sound of footsteps ceased. The Doctor opened his eyes as he felt the Master's attention drawn back to him. Quietly and very, very slowly, the footsteps returned, ringing out in the near silence.

The Master stood at the head of the steps, hanging over the railings with a look of disdain. He raised an eyebrow. "What?"

The Doctor arched his head awkwardly, leaning as far forwards as he could to look into his face. "Look, leave me in the dark if it makes you feel any better."

The Master's eyes flashed wide. "Oh, I will."

"And leave me stuck to this pole if it makes you any happier."

"…is this going anywhere? I am a rather busy man; ruling the world and all that."

"- But... can I just -" he pulled his knees up towards him, then looked up at the other Timelord and sighed. "Do I get a request?"

The Master simply stood in silence, a bored look on his face as he raised an eyebrow. The Doctor grimaced. "…would you _please_ just do us a favour and scratch my nose?"

* * *

**Note:** I laughed as I wrote that final line. I love how inappropriate the Doctor can be.

This will probably be my last chapter until mid/end of November (feel sorry for the Doctor's nose). In the meantime I have a favour to ask:

Let me know if you think I'm doing the characters justice. Seriously, I love writing fanfiction, but I get so worked up and stressed over characterisation that I start to doubt myself. It would be so so incredibly helpful to hear what other people think.

Blog post for this chapter is now up.


	34. Chapter 31

**Note: **Thanks for your patience. Most of my deadlines are now out of the way, so I'll be able to do a few more chapters before the insanity (hah) of uni picks up again.

This is a bit short, but hopefully there'll be another chapter up soon. Thanks for all the feedback so far.

Now that I know I'm not going to ruin the season Eight finale for anyone, I'm quite happy to share my opinion of it. I have always had a problem with Moffat's writing. I don't expect everyone to share my opinions, that's fair enough, but once Moffat took over, the show seemed to lose its spark. I've been a lifelong fan of Doctor Who, but for me the canon ended when the Tenth Doctor died. What happened after that is – in my head at least – a mystery. Bringing back the Master was a horrific mistake. His story came to a perfect ending in The End of Time – finally discovering it was the Timelords who made him insane. As a writer, I feel that the Master's story was complete at that moment, and that bringing him back (male or female) ruined the whole point of what Russel T. Davies did with him.

I'm not saying I expect everyone to agree with me, because as I say a lot – character is fairly fluid, but my interpretation of these characters is all I have to go on. For me, the final Master is and always will be John Simm.

Until next chapter,

_Turkaholic_

(Oh, and blog post for this chapter is now up.)

**Chapter 31**

The Master looked at him, nonplussed.

"What?"

"My nose." Repeated the Doctor, an innocuous tone to his voice. "It's been itching for hours."

The change in tone seemed to have left the Master almost at a loss for words. He arched his eyebrows and leaned forwards over the rails.

"You _must _be joking."

The Doctor rested his head back against the surface behind him and looked thoughtfully out of the windows. He sighed. "Well… I dunno about you, Master, but I don't generally make jokes when I'm tied up. Tends to break the flow a bit." He tilted his head slightly towards the other Timelord, glancing at him through his now-dishevelled bangs of hair. "If you want to hear my best lines, try taking me to a party. I'm brilliant at parties."

Suspicion and irritation pulled at the Master's features, and yet the Doctor could see just a hint of curiosity behind it all. The change of tone had piqued the other Timelord's interest, as he'd hoped.

"Of course," he continued, his voice almost obnoxiously loud, "I don't suppose they have parties anymore do they? No music… no dancing… no falling in love. And it's not exactly like you and Lucy can cut loose up here, is it? Sometimes…" voice dropped into a mutter as he looked into the Master's steadily darkening face. He raised an eyebrow, "…I think you're just as much a prisoner up here as me."

The Doctor kept his face as close to neutral as he could, examining the effect the words had on the other Timelord carefully. He was treading dangerous ground, he knew that all too well, but being left in the dark to witness the aftermath of the Master's fury filled him with a dim sense of nausea. If he could keep the other Timelord interested there was a chance – as slim as it was – that the Master would change his mind.

The Master tapped his fingers impatiently against the rail as the words sank in. After a moment he snorted; a sardonic, malevolent smile spreading across his face.

"Is that it? Are you done? Or is there more pointless drivel you want to share?"

The Doctor took a deep breath. "Well, now that you mention it –"

"Goodbye, Doctor." The Master turned away. He slid his hand slowly along the rail as he descended the steps once more, the ring on his finger glinting as it passed out of the Doctor's sight.

The Doctor blew out a silent breath, trying to still the panic as it rose up inside him. Being left here overnight would give the Master too much pleasure; too much control. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, two whole months of constant mental barrage – of insanity, confusion, imprisonment and destruction – had taken a toll. He was exhausted, mentally and physically. Being abandoned in the dark could be the thing to push him over the edge. Whether the Master knew or cared, however, was another matter entirely.

"Okay, yes you could just leave me here." he blurted, "Wouldn't blame you: I've got a big gob, can't help it."

Once again, he heard the Master's footsteps fall into silence. There was a silence, and for a horrific moment the Doctor wasn't sure if the other Timelord had already left the room.

"…finally." Came the Master's voice, creeping through the still air. "He admits it."

In spite of himself, the sound of the Master's voice brought a weak smile of relief to his face. "You never asked."

_Jack stood with his back to the expanse of darkness outside the windows, watching the two figures with a perplexed look. After everything he'd seen – the destruction of Japan, watching Tish and Francine broken – it had been painful, but it had at least made a horrific kind of sense. Watching the two Timelords interact in private, however, seemed to make no sense at all. _

"So –" said the Doctor loudly, breaking the brief silence. He shuffled uncomfortably against the handcuffs. "Do I get my request then?"

The Master seemed to contemplate the idea for a moment. The Doctor could almost hear the internal struggle as the other Timelord tried to decide which option would give him most enjoyment.

"No."

"Oh come on…" urged the taller man, fully aware that this would probably be his last chance to stall the Master's exit. There was only one more card he had left to play. "One request? Surely the Lord and Master of the Earth could manage that?"


	35. Chapter 32

**Note:  
**We're getting there slowly. I'm not going to force characters into sex scenes: it sort of ruins the point of what I'm doing, but I promise – there is more on the way.

Blog chapter's up as well.

As usual - thanks for the support. Writing this story has been an amazing experience so far.

**Chapter 32**

The bridge of the Valiant fell into silence once more, though the Doctor knew that there was something different in this one. He knew that the Master hadn't moved: not even the soft hiss of the other Timelord's suit broke the stillness. The Doctor held his breath. Playing on the Master's vanity was his last choice, and as with every move he made against the other Timelord, it wasn't without its risks.

"…_'Lord and Master of the Earth_'" Came the reply eventually: slow, full of arrogance and twisted enjoyment. The Master seemed to roll every syllable around his tongue, enjoying the way they tasted. The Doctor heard movement, and knew that the Master had looked over his shoulder. "It's subservient. I like it."

The Doctor allowed himself a closely guarded sigh. He could tell by the tone of voice that the other Timelord had finally taken the bait, though that didn't mean that the Doctor considered it a victory. There had been too many deaths and losses today for him to feel anything but exhaustion and his dented pride.

The taller Timelord closed his eyes and swallowed – a brief moment of weakness in preparation for the Master to return, as he now knew he would. The appeal of a defeated Doctor would be too tantalising to ignore.

The now familiar approach of footsteps rang out in the darkness. The Doctor opened his eyes, sensing more than hearing as the Master prowled back towards him silently, like a panther stalking its prey. A dark smirk of enjoyment now adorned his strangely elated face. He bared his teeth as he spoke. "I've waited a long time to hear that tone out of you."

The Doctor simply raised his eyes to the ceiling and sighed, avoiding eye contact. Despite the amount of talking he did, he knew that opening his mouth right now would jeopardise everything he'd been struggling towards.

The Master came to a halt in front of the other Timelord, tilting his head like a curious child as he took in the effect of the handcuffs; the Doctor's averted gaze. Slowly, he lowered himself to his knees. The Doctor felt the familiar instinct of danger tug at him, but ignored it.

Something flashed in the corner of the Doctor's eye. Something bright green and silver, shimmering in the darkness. He jerked his head away from it, his head still full of possible dangers. The reaction made the other Timelord laugh darkly. He looked away, the smirk breaking into a grin.

"If I wanted to kill you, Doctor, I'd be a bit more imaginative than _this_."

The words didn't seem to make any sense in the taller Timelord's head. He'd been steeling himself for danger, and somewhere in his over-tired mind he'd associated the silver glint with a screwdriver. It had been a stupid mistake to make – one that had given the Master more power over the situation than he'd hoped to give, but the damage was done. Reluctantly he lowered his eyes to the Master's face, and then towards the strangely coloured glint that had caught his eye.

The Master had extended his hand, the back of it just an inch from the Doctor's face. The ring on his finger flashed in shades of silver and venomous green. The taller Timelord felt his stomach drop as he realised what the Master was doing. He was going to grant his request, yes, but not without a little more degradation. He should have expected it.

He hesitated, his brow furrowing. The Master blinked and arched his eyebrows, an expression on his face as if he were looking at a petulant child.

"Oh, and now you don't want to?" He mumbled, a long-suffering tone in his voice. He sighed and raised his eyes, narrowing them at some point above the Doctor's head. The taller Timelord gritted his teeth behind his tightly-closed lips. "Oh yes, let's be stubborn again, shall we? It's worked _dazzlingly_ for you so far."

"I was never the stubborn one." The Doctor found himself growling, leaping to his own defence before he could stop himself. "That was you."

The Doctor regretted the words almost before he'd finished saying them. Mentioning their history was – at the best of times – a bad move. Patience was one of few things that the Doctor truly felt proud of himself for, but the Master had always had a way of getting under his skin; provoking a reaction one way or another. Now all he could do was wait for the inevitable backlash.

The Master continued to stare above the Doctor's head for a moment, his eyes narrowing into slits as a quiver of anger seemed to go through him. His lips tightened in fury.

"Times change." He hissed, the anger subsiding. He lowered his eyes back to the Doctor's confused face and leaned in, whispering dangerously. "_People_ change. I mean…" He laughed derogatively and shook his head in despair, "just look at _you_. I remember a time when your name sent shudders through the very Vortex itself. What was it they used to call you?"

The Doctor felt a lump in his throat as the Master stared into him. That wicked sneer had returned to his face as he spoke, and the Doctor could almost feel him slipping away.

"…The Oncoming Storm." The Doctor growled. The Master shrugged dismissively.

"I knew it was some over-wrought gibberish."

The Doctor bit his tongue, holding back any retaliation. The Master's hand was still hovering before his face, like the smallest chink in the other Timelord's armour. If he could regain the ground he'd lost, perhaps there was still hope.

"I didn't choose it." He defended, keeping his voice low and conversational. Over the past few weeks, in their night-time walks, he'd found that approaching the Master this way had the best effect when he was in this mood. It was never one hundred percent effective, but it was the best chance he had. "It just sort of… _grew_."

The Master's head tilted just a fraction of an inch, the sneer still on his face. His lip twitched in a strange spasm. "And I killed it." He whispered, full of pride.

The Doctor felt the words ache inside him. If Martha failed; if everything he was hoping for came to nothing, then the Master would be right: there would be no more Doctor; no more Oncoming Storm – just the Master's trophy, watching as the universe burned around him. None of this made its way onto his face, however. He simply raised his eyes upwards placidly and let out a breath of laughter. "All that intelligence you've got, and you never learn, do you? I was never a fan of titles."

The dismissive answer sent another spasm through the Master's face. Perhaps he'd expected defeat in the Doctor's tone, or hurt, or defense; but dismissiveness seemed to confuse him. Even with his eyes elsewhere, the Doctor could tell that the other Timelord was struggling to think of how to regain the upper hand in the conversation.

"Anyway," pressed the Doctor, taking advantage of the Master's confusion, "like you said: you're a busy man, so let's have my request and you can dash off."

The Master glanced down at the hand in front of the Doctor's face, as if suddenly realising that it was still there. He bit his upper lip hard, thinking. "And you think you deserve it, do you?" He hissed, almost childishly.

"Oh, but that's not the point, is it?" replied the Doctor, eyes flickering back down to the Master's face. "If this was about deserving something, all those people down there would still be alive."

The Master moved closer, a shadow of a smirk appearing on his face. "This is your case, is it? Of all the arguments you've ever made, this has to be the most pathetic."

The Doctor pouted thoughtfully. "Maybe." He sighed, "But you know I'm right. Right or wrong doesn't make any difference." His voice dropped suddenly to a deep growl. "You do things because you _want_ to."

The Master watched him curiously for a moment. Eventually an eyebrow twitched upwards as if in agreement and he raised his hand closer to the Doctor's face.

It took every ounce of the Doctor's pride to acquiesce. He'd hoped that he could sway the Master's mood enough that it wouldn't come to this, but the flicker of an idea he had rested on this – something so small, and yet so important. In the end the only other option open to him was sitting handcuffed to the bridge of the Valiant, and that could push him beyond breaking point. He had never been particularly self-centred, but he needed to survive – sane and intact – for the sake of Martha. There was only one way he could do that: play the Master's game; steal small victories wherever he could, even if the opportunities were few and far between.

He clenched his jaw furiously and pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, still sore from the gag. He looked into the Master's mocking face, trying to hide the resentment that ran through every inch of him, and reluctantly leaned in.


	36. Chapter 33

**Note:** I'm sorry this chapter has taken so long. There were several ways this chapter could have played out, and I was struggling to decide which way to go. Hopefully I made the right decision in the end.

Once again, my writing now has to take the back seat to other things. Essays loom once more, and I have to put the Master and the Doctor's story to one side. End of November should see the next chapter up.

As usual, thanks for the support so far, and as usual, let me know if you like what I'm doing. Reviews will be a great help in the fight against the stress of final year uni.

Blog post is now up.

Oh and… don't hate me too much for taking the handcuffs off, okay? I have my reasons.

**Chapter 33**

_Jack felt sick. Seeing the Doctor lean in to that hand was – somehow – more abhorrent than anything he'd seen so far. It looked too much like surrender, and apparently he wasn't the only one who thought so: he watched the Master's face light up with a strange smile in the twilight, apparently savouring what he saw as a victory._

_ He grimaced and shook his head subconsciously. "What were you –" but he couldn't even finish the sentence. His throat felt full of bile._

_ If the Doctor felt ashamed, for once he didn't show it. He kept his eyes on the scene, watching it in deep concentration. "Just wait." He hissed._

The Doctor kept his eyes on the Master's face as their skin made contact, feeling that connection – which until now had only been a distant whisper – jerk back into life in his mind. His eyes lidded just for a fraction of a second, feeling all the memories and instincts from long ago urging him to press forward, but submitting to them was out of the question. He forced his eyes back open and watched the Master's face, feeling the warmth of his fingers and the icy cold of the ring against his face. The other Timelord's fingers twitched, but if he felt that connection on the same level the Doctor did, he hid it well.

"Now this…" he tilted his head back and laughed. "Ooh Doctor, I'm getting chills."

"Glad to know you feel comfortable enough to share."

The Master's laughter died into silence. A flicker of irritation passed across his face, and then he leaned in. "Shush." He snapped. "I've heard enough out of that mouth to last me a lifetime. Several, actually."

The Doctor did as he was told, just for a moment. He rested his cheek against the Master's fingers, took a deep breath, and then spoke.

"…okay."

The taller Timelord looked away, staring out at the gathering dark beyond the Valiant's windows.

The word, as simple and quiet as it was, seemed to throw the Master off. His hand lowered slowly from the other Timelord's face and rested silently on his knee. He looked doubtfully at the Doctor, and then narrowed his eyes.

"What did you just say?"

"I said okay." The Doctor sighed, resting his head back once more. He smiled weakly. "If you want to leave me here, I can't stop you."

The Master snorted. "Correct for once."

"But I do have one question."

The shorter Timelord sighed in frustration and rolled his eyes.

But the Doctor knew that playing to the Master's vanity had been worth the risk; worth the loss of pride. Giving him that level of control over the situation had swung his mood. The blind fury; the rage and malice that had lingered around him since the morning seemed to have shifted into a mocking sort of complacency. The Doctor avoided eye contact, contracted his brow into a vaguely curious frown, and played his final hand.

"What happens in the morning, when your wife sees me here?"

The Master froze in place. The Doctor could see him from the corner of his eye, but continued to avoid his gaze. Even so, he could tell the words had had an effect. What the effect was, however, remained to be seen.

The shorter Timelord's face began to twist. He ran his tongue over his teeth as his nose rankled up into a snarl. "I'll tell her the puppy needed training." He growled, his voice thick with dark sarcasm.

The Doctor remained silent this time, allowing the other man's mind to work. He was certain the Master would never have told Lucy about their history, and if she walked in in the morning and found him still here, it would be like the Master screaming at the top of his lungs that the Doctor got under his skin. That was something that the other Timelord didn't want to admit to himself, let alone anyone else.

There was a long, painful silence, and the Doctor could feel the Master's gaze flickering furiously across his face. The Doctor knew he was considering his options; deciding how best to deal with it. Finally something seemed to click. The Master growled and reached into his jacket.

The taller Timelord saw the movement like a flash in the corner of his eye, and turned towards it out of instinct. Every single muscle in his body tensed, pumping with adrenaline at the imminent danger. A moment later he heard the familiar soft click, and he felt something cold and hard being pressed into his jaw. He swallowed. He didn't even have to look to know what it was.

The Master held the screwdriver at the Doctor's chin, his eyes narrowed on the expression on the other Timelord's face. The Doctor gritted his teeth and pressed his neck backwards, feeling the screwdriver follow, pressed bruisingly hard into his jawbone. He tried to keep his face calm, but he knew that the Master wouldn't fail to notice the way his chest heaved furiously. His hearts were pumping in his ears, as if desperate to keep him alive in spite of the threat.

This wasn't the first time he'd been on the dangerous end of that screwdriver today, but that had been his own choice; defending Francine. This was different. This was personal. If the Master killed him now, then it was by choice, and any spark of hope that was left for the other Timelord would die with the Doctor.

The Master's eyes flickered, taking in the fear that was now undoubtedly making itself known in the Doctor's eyes. Finally, after a painfully long pause, one side of the Master's lip twitched up into a dark sneer and he snatched the screwdriver back, leaving the Doctor with his neck arched backwards, still too full of fear to move.

But the Master didn't return the screwdriver to his pocket. He leaned forwards, eyes still of twisted enjoyment as he came dangerously close, leaning over him until their faces were barely a fraction of an inch apart. The Doctor felt his hands slide behind his back, and in spite of the fear that thundered in his head, a shadow of disappointment and grief nagged at him. The Master was finally going to kill him. The amount of times he'd tried over the centuries, it should never have been such a shock, but he'd been so sure something was different this time. He'd overplayed his hand; expected more than - perhaps - still existed.

A flash of orange light lit up the darkened room, illuminating the Master's twisted smirk just for a fraction of a second. The Doctor's head was spinning. He was too tired; too full of fear; too lost in his own thoughts and regrets to understand that his hands were free.

The Master's dark smirk faded away. He surveyed the Doctor's face silently for a second, and then sighed furiously and looked away.

"Get up." He growled, and then pulled himself back to his feet.


	37. Chapter 34

**Note:** Okay, this is definitely DEFINITELY my last chapter until the end of November. You have no idea how much of a struggle it is to leave a story that's been nagging you for years in exchange for essay writing.

I really should make my notes more to the point shouldn't I? I apologise. Like the Doctor, I too have a _'big gob._'

**Edit: **Apologies. Unexpected essays mean that it will be a little longer before the next chapter is up. (last essay is due in on 11th December... Which works out quite nicely really, as the next set of memories take place on Christmas day (no, not that one!))

**Chapter 34**

_Jack had been watching with his breath held. Even though he knew that this was just a memory; even though he knew that the Timelord beside him had survived that year, Jack knew the Master's insanity first hand, and he knew what it could do. He let out his breath slowly and unclenched his fists._

_ "You played him."_

_ The statement made the Doctor frown. "I was using the only tools I had." He growled lowly, and Jack wondered why he sounded so defensive. "I'd hoped that if I could sway his mood he'd react differently. Maybe he did." The Doctor's lip twitched for a second. "Maybe having an itchy nose saved my life." _

_ Jack snorted in reluctant laughter, watching as the Doctor's face turned to a grimace. "Not a line I'd use again."_

_ The Doctor hissed through his teeth thoughtfully. "Yeah." He said. "I think I'll keep that one to myself."_

_ Jack knew that this burst of humour was a defence; just the Doctor's way of staving off the darkness. He'd seen it before, but that didn't mean he wouldn't play along. He couldn't even imagine the effect these memories had on the Timelord, but if he could help ease it, then he would._

_ It didn't last long. The Doctor's face fell back into a frown and he sighed. "Talking to that man was like walking on a razor's edge." He shook his head, eyes wide, and slid a hand down one side of his face. "I had no idea he'd react so badly. Looking back though, mentioning Lucy right then and there… well, that was probably the single most dangerous thing I could have done."_

_"Why?"_

_ The Doctor raised his eyebrows incredulously. "Blimey, Jack, I didn't bring you along to babysit. Use that big old human brain of yours."_

_ But no matter how he thought about it, Jack couldn't see that what the Doctor had said was any more dangerous than anything else that had passed between the two Timelords.  
_

_ The Doctor kept his eyes on the Master's back as he rose to his feet. Jack frowned uncomfortably. He had begun to notice it now where he hadn't before – perhaps he'd been too shocked by what he was seeing; too confused and overwhelmed to pay attention – but his Doctor's eyes seemed to follow the Master like a magnet, studying his expression; his body language. And though he never said anything, Jack was starting to become more and more certain that there was a deep sense of sadness; some greater sense of loss than he'd ever admitted lingering somewhere in his tired eyes._

_ "He could have killed me. I think he wanted to." Sighed the Doctor. "The temptation must have been massive." A strange smile flickered across his face. Jack's brow furrowed harder. "Killing me would have been an end to it – an end to any influence I still had on him. Everything he'd ever been just… gone with a few clicks on that screwdriver."_

_ "So why didn't he?"_

_ The Doctor pulled his eyes away from the Master's back and turned to Jack with an eyebrow raised. "Oh now that's the question, isn't it? If the perception filter never worked on him, he could have killed us before we even set foot on the Valiant." He paused for a second. "Well… maybe not _you_, but-"_

_ "I get your point." _

_ The Doctor smiled at the sudden interjection, then looked back at the scene, his face dropping back into a thoughtful frown. "I don't think even the Master understood the meaning of the decision he'd just made. At the time, neither did I."_

_ Jack was becoming used to the evasive answers now, and although when they'd first arrived – when the Doctor and the Master had shared that first horrifying kiss – he'd thought he was merely there to witness, he was beginning to understand that it was more than that. The Doctor was inviting questions, even if the answers he gave were no answers at all. He took a few steps closer and nodded. "But you do now?"_

_ "Oh I think so." Came the quiet reply, and as expected it was as cryptic as ever. "I don't expect to understand everything that went through his head. Just trying to would make me as mad as he was, but..." The Doctor took in a deep breath, and the next words came out in a strangely constricted tone, as though they were a struggle; something he didn't want to say. "After Christmas Day… a lot of things seem a lot clearer."_

_ This was the second time the Doctor had mentioned that day, and Jack was beginning to wonder more and more what he had missed. Even surrounded by all this chaos and confusion, for a moment he thought of Gwen, and hoped she was safe._

_ "Let me guess…" he sighed. He raised a hand to his forehead and massaged it in frustration. "Long story?"_

_ The Doctor tilted his head back and laughed silently for a second, and for a hideous moment Jack was reminded of the Master. The moment passed quickly though, and soon the Timelord's face had fallen back into a vague – if somehow bitter – smile. "You have no idea." He said, an odd sort of humour in his voice. "The end of one - maybe two - very… _very_ long stories."_

_ But whatever it was, Jack knew from his tone that he would say no more about it – not yet, at least. He sighed in frustration and turned back to the scene, hoping that whatever happened next would finally make sense._


	38. Chapter 35

**Note:** I'm back! Thanks so much for being patient – and for the reviews and stuff (they did a really good job of helping me through the stress of the last few weeks of term). I love hearing from you lot. Seriously, you're fabulous, supportive, spectacular people. Or - as a wise man once said - _fantastic_.

I'm going to leave any shout outs etc til the end of the story, but I do have a quick request for someone: _Bad Wolf _\- let me know your logged-in username?

Anyway... there's part of me that really wishes this story consisted of 'And they snuggled in bed for a year, eating jelly babies and watching the Clangers', but I fear my inner Master would eat me (show-related pun completely intended). Unfortunately, writing this pair as canon includes vast amounts of emotional trauma and outbursts of insanity (on both sides). Prepare for a bit of that in the next few chapters – though nothing deeply horrible, and not all is as it appears. The Doctor will finally begin to explain in the next interlude. Not to worry, though – there are more fluffy (well, as fluffy as the Master is capable of) bits ahead.

Blog entry is now up.

**19/12/14** \- Sorry, next chapter is a bit delayed (Christmas stuff and illness is getting in the way), but should be up by Monday.

Well I'm sorry, anyway. My inner Master, however, is gleefully enjoying your pain.

Until next chapter.

_Turkaholic_

**Chapter 35**

"In."

The Master didn't wait for the other Timelord to respond. He grabbed the back of his jacket and jerked him forwards over the threshold and into the middle of the room.

The Doctor stumbled slightly, but made no attempt to resist or retaliate to the sudden outburst of anger. The Master had calmed slightly in the few minutes it had taken to march him back here, but he was still clearly agitated, and if the screwdriver made another appearance tonight, the Doctor couldn't be sure that the Master would make the same decision again.

Exhaustion was settling on the taller Timelord now, like a dense fog sweeping over his mind. He was full of aches and pains – his arms, his wrists, his mouth – and now he could feel a bruise beginning to form on his jaw where the screwdriver had been. He'd watched a country burn, powerless to stop it, watched Martha's family damaged, and the Master had come close to throwing them both past the point of no return.

Because, no matter how the Doctor tried to push away that faint glimmer of hope – the one that he had purposely smothered so many centuries ago – the more time he spent with the other Timelord, the more insistent the thought was becoming.

The Master lingered in the doorway, watching as the Doctor made his way across the room with his back to him. His eyes were still cold, a hint of that manic fury lingering behind them as he rested a hand against the doorframe. His fingers began to tap subconsciously.

"Sulking again." He growled, "How original you've become, Doctor."

The Doctor ignored the provocation. The last thing he wanted was a confrontation. He was too tired: just holding a conversation with the other man took all his – very extensive - mental capabilities, and they were worn with tiredness. Besides, they were still too close to the memory of the screwdriver. He simply sat down on the edge of the bed, his face in neutral, and stared at the distant wall, hoping that the Master would become bored.

_Jack heard a grunt of pain, and for a moment he was unsure where it had come from. He looked from the Doctor on the bed, to the Master stood in the doorway, but the sound made no sense. A strange hiss from over his shoulder made him turn, and he realised that his Doctor had slid to the floor, sitting on it with his arms folded across his stomach. The Doctor looked over at him and smiled half-heartedly._

_Jack turned away from the scene completely and walked back towards him, bowing his head with a concerned frown on his face. "You okay?"_

_"Yeah." The Timelord said cheerfully, "Just a bit tired, I suppose. Maybe it's old age finally creeping up on me."_

_Jack looked doubtfully into the other man's face for a moment, but knew that now wasn't the time for questions. He smiled and followed the Doctor's actions, sliding down the wall to sit next to him. He chuckled quietly. "You still look pretty young to me."_

_The Doctor's smile faded just a fraction, his eyes flickering towards the Master in the doorway. "Been a long few days."_

_"You wanna take a break?"_

_ The Doctor simply shook his head. He would have loved to have said yes; to skip this night, hide this part of his memory – and himself – from the universe; but if Jack was ever going to understand then he needed to see everything._

The Master seemed to be waiting for retaliation, but when none came his jaw quivered and he raised his eyes to the ceiling.

"Didn't we enjoy our little daytrip? You should have been honoured. Oh, but yes..." He closed his eyes and laughed coldly. "I should have remembered. That wasn't even a _bonfire_ compared to what you did."

The words hit the Doctor like a physical blow. It had become the Master's favourite card to play, and for good reason: had it been any other creature in the universe; perhaps even any other Timelord, the effect might have worn off by now, but somehow every time the Master brought it up, the wound felt as painful as it had all those years ago.

The Doctor looked up, turning towards the door in spite of himself. He shook his head.

"This isn't a competition."

The Master opened his eyes at the sound of the Doctor's voice, the laugh falling into silence in the small white room. He sighed, narrowed his eyes and nodded.

"You are absolutely right."

The Doctor watched him warily. He should never have spoken, he knew that, and as much as he wanted to believe the sincerity of those words there was an undercurrent of dangerous sarcasm in them. The Doctor clenched his fists on his knees.

"This _was_ a competition." The Master suddenly growled, his face turning to a sinister glare. "You've. _Lost._"

The Doctor stood up from the bed as the Master moved forwards into the room, advancing on him. He could think of nothing else to do – this room was far too small to run, and he was too tired to even attempt to reason with the other Timelord. Either option could end in catastrophe, and not just for the Doctor.

The Master strode towards him and leaned in, tilting his head slightly. "You finally realise that," he whispered dangerously into the Doctor's face, "I might let you live a bit longer."

The Doctor watched him for a moment, his eyes lidded tiredly. The Master's face seemed to twitch just for a second, but he stood his ground, staying dangerously close to the other man.

The taller Timelord sighed – a long, slow, exhausted sound that he simply couldn't hold back. He'd almost forgotten how tiring the other Timelord could be.

"Master," he muttered quietly. "If this was a competition, I lost a long time ago."

The Master's face twitched up into a dark smirk at the sound of defeat in the Doctor's voice.

"…we both did."

And the smirk fell away.

"No."

The word was quiet, but came out in a constricted hiss. The shorter Timelord's face contorted in fury, his face reddening as a vein began to pulse in his temple. He bared his teeth and slammed his hand into the Doctor's chest, shoving him away violently into the wall. The Doctor felt his shoulders slam into the panels, the pain of it shooting down his already aching arms. He ground his teeth against the pain, but otherwise kept it to himself.

"I win!" Shouted the Master. He stood in the middle of the room, eyes wide as every muscle in his body seemed to tense. "I WIN!"

The Doctor stayed still against the wall. After tonight he should have known the reaction those three words would receive, but he was so tired - mentally exhausted after all the events he'd had to witness today. He could see the Master's chest heaving in fury, the madness glinting in his eyes under the fluorescent light. He had to calm him, or everything would be lost.

The taller Timelord tentatively pulled himself away from the wall. He bowed his head slightly, eyes widening, trying to reach out. He didn't want to move any closer, but did so nonetheless; taking slow, silent steps towards him.

"Just listen to yourself." He said carefully. "If you could hear what you sound like…"

The Doctor wasn't sure if the words sank in; if the Master even understood them right now; but as he moved across the room towards him the other Timelord turned on the spot. He began pacing instead, his eyes lowered to the floor.

"And do you know _why_ I win?" He said, almost as if the sudden outburst had never happened.

The Doctor watched him, rooted to the floor nervously. The Master's rage had subsided temporarily, and he wished he could be relieved, but something in the other Timelord's words made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The Doctor could feel adrenaline beginning to surge through every cell in his body, forcing its way past the exhaustion, but there was no outlet for it – nowhere to run. The Master suddenly stopped pacing and turned back towards him. The Doctor realised that a humourless, twisted smirk had appeared on the shorter Timelord's face.

"Because I really do have a secret." He said, his words hissing through his teeth. Once again he moved close. The Doctor stood his ground – backing away could cause more harm than good right now.

The Master leaned in, eyes flashing as they flickered strangely across the Doctor's face. "I know you." He said lowly. "I know exactly what you are."

The Doctor tensed.

"You are just like me."

Slowly, the Doctor shook his head. "We've already covered this." He breathed, trying to keep his voice calm and even. "I am noth-"

"Yes you are!" roared the Master, cutting him off loudly. His lip curled in apparent disgust. "The man who uses a _sonic_ screwdriver; so scared of what he might do with anything else."

The words made the Doctor's throat tighten. The Master's lip curled higher.

"The man who never carries a weapon, because he knows _exactly_ what he'd do with it."

The Doctor was stunned into silence; frozen. The effect seemed to urge the shorter Timelord on; like a predator smelling out a wounded animal. His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper as he struck his final blow.

"The coward who tasted power… and _liked_ it."

_The Doctor tilted his head back against the wall, averting his eyes from the scene and swallowed. "Here it comes." He muttered darkly. Jack tore his eyes away once more and looked at him._

_"Here what comes?"_

_The Doctor seemed reluctant to answer. He shook his head subconsciously, and then bared his teeth. "…the closest I _ever_ came to hating him."_

The two Timelords stared into each other's faces silently for a moment. The Doctor's brow began to furrow deeply, his eyes widening, but otherwise nothing seemed to change. The Master, however, seemed to almost sense something. He narrowed his eyes, his lip twitching upwards in a vindictive smirk.

"There he is." He hissed.

The Doctor stood frozen for a few seconds more, his breathing heavy and constricted.

"Ooh, go on Doctor." Jeered the Master, his voice barely a whisper as he watched the other Timelord's face. "Let it out."

The Doctor's lip began to curl. His fingers twitched, balling themselves into fists momentarily.

A hand lashed out. The Doctor grabbed the Master by the shirt, the sudden lunge taking the shorter Timelord by surprise. The Doctor forced him back until they both slammed into the white wall, his face still contorted in an uncharacteristic snarl as he shoved himself forwards. He grabbed the other Timelord's lower lip between his bared teeth and pulled at it furiously, digging his fingers into the Master's chest.

The Master matched the Doctor's snarl with one of his own. He snatched his lip away with a loud growl, grabbing the other Timelord by the throat and forcing him backwards. The Doctor didn't even seem to notice, or if he did he no longer cared – his eyes were fixed darkly on the Master as he pushed him across the room.

They crashed into the opposite wall, landing with such force that it shuddered behind the Doctor's back. The Master dragged his hand down the Doctor's throat and lunged forwards, meeting the other man's already bruised lips in a feral, furious kiss.


	39. Chapter 36

**Note:** Here, have a sex scene a day early. Hopefully the second half will be up later today, but no promises.

Just a quick thing about the blog I write with this – when I say I 'review' the chapters, that doesn't mean I say how fabulously I wrote it. Actually it's more of a companion to the story – I talk about character motivations, and how it links back to the show (because in my opinion, RTD always implied this pair in his wonderfully sneaky, child-friendly way). Like did you notice how the Master echoed the Doctor last chapter?

_'Because I've always had the greatest secret of all… I know you._'

Sorry. Rambling is one of my things. In any case, you might find it interesting. I try not to post spoilers, since for now this fic depends on you lot reading between the lines, but believe me when I say I don't write their lines and actions just because it seems like a good idea at the time: there is a reason behind every action between these two.

Blog post for this chapter is now up, although don't expect too much character motivation stuff up there - the motives here should be... ahem... rather obvious.

As always – thanks for all the support, and as always – please leave me a review when you read? They make me happy.

**Chapter 36**

The Doctor's fingers dug into the Master's chest, still pinned between them as they pushed against each other, both vying for control, both pouring their rage into the sudden, furious kiss. If the Doctor had been lucid, he would have known that fighting the Master for dominance was a battle he could never win; but those words had been the thing he'd most feared hearing since the phone call all those weeks ago, precisely because he feared the effect they would have.

Normally he would have been terrified of himself; of what he had given in to, but he was beyond that now: He'd lost control. Completely. Everything he was usually so careful to avoid; everything that he'd never wanted to let surface was out in the open, pulled out of him by the only person in the universe who could so easily have done it.

The Master dragged his fingers roughly down the Doctor's neck, leaving red marks in their wake on the otherwise pale skin. The Doctor didn't seem to notice the pain – everything but instinct and fury had slid away at the Master's words, and the only indication he made that he even felt the fingers was a twitch of his neck. He snarled and snatched at the other Timelord's lip once more, biting down on it hard. The Master growled louder and slammed his bodyweight into the Doctor, pinning him in place against the wall. On instinct the Doctor parted his legs, grabbing the other man's hair and pulling him forwards. Not that he needed to: the Master took advantage of the space and pressed himself even more furiously against the Doctor's body. The taller Timelord's teeth drew blood.

The Master jerked backwards against the insistent force of the Doctor's hand; against the clutching teeth. The Doctor tried to follow him forwards, but the Master's hand was still on his neck, holding him back. Both men were already panting, the Doctor's face still contorted in a snarl as he glared almost hungrily into the Master's face. The Master's expression was almost the perfect reflection, his eyes darting across this new, feral Doctor's face as he raised his free hand, swiping at the dark red blood impatiently. He sucked the rest away and lunged forwards once more, pressing the other Timelord back through the sheer force of the kiss.

The movement finally allowed the Doctor the freedom to move his hand, but instead of pulling it away he dragged it upwards. His fingers gripped at the Master's shirt collar, and a moment later a loud, violent ripping sound filled the small white room.

For the second time in two months, the Master's shirt lay in tatters on his chest. This time, however, neither Timelord seemed to notice or even care. The Master simply slid his fingers down from the Doctor's neck and followed his example, apparently deciding on some subconscious level that it was a much more simple way of dealing with the problem.

The Doctor growled into the other Timelord's mouth as the ripping of his shirt tugged at the back of his neck. He freed his hand from the Master's hair and tried to shake the material furiously from his shoulders, but the Master was planted firmly between his legs now, grinding against him animalistically, and the jacket and shirt simply became trapped between the Doctor and the plain panelled wall that he was pinned against. It made no difference, however: the Doctor was beyond thinking about technicalities. He let the material lie below his shoulders and snatched his head aside, jerking away from the kiss. A moment later, he was latched onto the other man's neck, teeth digging in to skin.

The Master's rhythm faltered just slightly and his head twitched to one side. A shudder ran down his back as the Doctor's teeth dragged against his neck. Another loud growl made its way past his lips, but he made no attempt to stop him. Instead he clawed his fingers down the other man's stomach and pulled at the waistband of his trousers sharply. They slid past his hips and pooled on the white floor.

If the Doctor noticed that he was now naked, he made no indication of it. His face was buried deeply in the other Timelord's neck, biting roughly at the flesh there, his long arms wrapped up around the Master's back with his fingers clutching ferociously at his shoulder blades. Apparently though, the Master finally decided enough was enough: a hand snatched upwards from the Doctor's hips and twisted tightly into his hair. He yanked him backwards, fixing him with a lust-filled glare.

"Enough." He snarled, baring his teeth in the Doctor's face, though the word was thick with a peculiar mix of rage and lust, and it seemed almost as difficult for him to force the word out as it was for the Doctor to understand it: he ignored the tight grip in his hair and jerked forwards into another animalistic kiss, taking the hand with him.

The Master didn't remove his hand, but neither did he pull him back. He crashed his lips into the Doctors', snarling into it. The Doctor dug his fingernails into the Master's back and dragged his fingers downwards over the skin. The Master growled, pulling ferociously at the Doctor's hair as the other Timelord ripped his trousers downwards. The Master shook them away thoughtlessly and pushed himself closer to the Doctor, the sudden contact of hot, bare flesh eliciting a deep moan from the taller Timelord. The Master's muscles shuddered under his skin.

The Doctor then did something that – had he been in any other state of mind – he would never have even considered. It would have sent a shiver down his back just to think about it; but the part of him that the Master had so easily awoken wasn't even capable of self-reflection, or of understanding the dizzyingly fine line that the Doctor had so carefully been treading for two months – that line between overstepping the mark, and complete submission. He clutched at the Master's shoulders for support, braced himself against the wall, and wrapped his legs around the other Timelord's waist.

The unexpected movement made the Master – as caught up in the moment as he was – pull away. His lip was still bleeding, a dark red smudge staining his bottom lip. The Doctor's, too, was bleeding – the congealed result of the gag torn open again in the sheer savagery of the kiss.

The Master's dark eyes flashed across the Doctor's face, taking in the anger and the self-loathing that was normally so deeply hidden. Even as they glared at each other, the Master's lip twitched on one side and his eyes narrowed almost appreciatively. The act lasted less than a second, and the next moment the Master had lunged forwards once more.

The Doctor reacted instinctively, as though drawn to the other Timelord's mouth by some magnetic force, but this time the Master dodged: He nudged the Doctor's head roughly aside with his own and clamped his teeth down on the other Timelord's shoulder.

The Doctor screwed his eyes shut, panting furiously between clenched teeth as the Master bit down furiously into his skin. He slid his hand from the Master's shoulder and clutched at the back of his neck, not to pull him away, but to pull him closer. The other Timelord made a subconscious noise of appreciation against the Doctor's shoulder, the vibration of it travelling across his skin.

The Master shoved his hand down between them, grabbing his own erection and massaging it impatiently, sliding his fingers over his tip until he was slick: apparently the idea of a feral, furious and strangely submissive Doctor had excited him more than enough, and while he seemed quite happy inflicting other forms of pain on the other Timelord right now, some whisper of sanity or reason or the shadow of a memory – or something else completely - held him back from that sort of pain. The Doctor growled in his ear loudly and bit at it with his snarling teeth. The Master pulled his fingers back and slammed him violently against the wall once more, almost in reply. Apparently both were now too far gone to communicate in any other way.

The Master slid his hand out from between them, brushing the back of it against the Doctor's groin as he did so. The Doctor tightened his grip around the Master's waist almost painfully hard, scratching at the back of the other Timelord's neck as he felt hands grab at his hips, hitching him up. He felt the Master's hips rock forwards underneath him; felt the shorter Timelord's teeth press even harder into his shoulder, and the next moment, the Master was pulling him downwards impatiently, forcing his way past the Doctor's shuddering muscles.


	40. Chapter 37

**Note:**Here we go. We're getting really close to the interlude I really want to write (where this weird relationship will finally begin to make sense), in the meantime have some sexy bits.

I will try to get the next chapter up soon, but if I don't post before: have a good Christmas :)

Blog post is up. Hooray.

**Chapter 37**

The Master clutched possessively at the Doctor's hips, pulling him downwards roughly until he was buried completely inside him. He buried his face in the Doctor's shoulder harder, biting down on the flesh there until he drew blood; panting furiously against his skin.

The Doctor's hand slid up into the other Timelord's hair, clutching at it furiously as he felt the Master press himself inside. Despite his protesting muscles; despite the sudden discomfort he nudged roughly against the other man's bowed head, snatching at the Master's ear with his bared teeth as a low, loud groan forced its way past his lips. The Master grunted in subconscious reply to the sound of the other Timelord's voice.

The Doctor clutched his legs desperately hard around the Master's waist, jerking him forwards. The Master hadn't needed a prompt to move, but the Doctor's reaction seemed to spur him into action: He growled darkly, the vibration of it travelling through both of them, and then thrust forwards.

The Doctor let go of the Master's ear, screwing his eyes shut at the sudden impact as his neck jolted instinctively into a backwards arch. He let out a rasping breath and tugged even harder at the other Timelord's hair. As if in retaliation, the Master bit down harder on his shoulder, but the Doctor barely even flinched. He was too lost in himself; lost in the achingly familiar presence of the Master; in the feel of the other Timelord inside him. Self-control no longer had any meaning. All that seemed to matter was pouring all the long years of anger, frustration and self-loathing into this; pouring everything he'd ever hated about himself into the Master.

They fell into a furious rhythm, the Master jerking the Doctor's hips downwards against his thrusts, dragging his teeth across the other Timelord's shoulder until he latched onto the Doctor's exposed neck instead. The clutching hands were unnecessary, however: the Doctor pushed down against the Master's thrusts faultlessly, meeting the increasingly furious pace just as hard, as if on some level still vying for control, trying to set the rhythm himself.

The Master's face was twisted in concentration as he bit down on the Doctor's neck, his brow furrowed at the intensity of the pace. He was groaning gruffly, muffled against the Doctor's skin as the other man kept his fingers tight in his hair. The Doctor's free hand had slid beneath the Master's tattered shirt and around his back, grabbing at his shoulder tightly, his nails digging in with every jerk of the other Timelord's hips. His head was arched back almost painfully hard, the sinews in his neck quivering through tensing so desperately. He let loose a deep, feral moan from between his gritted teeth with every movement, matching the Master's almost perfectly as they moved roughly against each other.

The Master finally removed his hands from the Doctor's hips, leaving deep red finger marks in his skin. He leaned further forwards, crushing himself against the other Timelord's chest to keep him in place, and then raised one of his newly-freed hands to slip around the Doctor's arched back. The Doctor's skin seemed to twitch at the new area of contact, but the Master was beyond any type of mockery or vanity now. He seemed almost as subsumed by the act as the Doctor, as though he too had lost whatever self-control he had, pouring his own demons into the furious pace.

With his arm around the Doctor's back, he suddenly jerked the other Timelord's body forwards as he thrust into him. The effect it had on the Doctor was as though a lightning bolt had run down his spine: His entire body jolted, every muscle visibly shuddering under his pale, sweat-soaked skin. His head lurched forwards out of its arch and found the Master's shoulder, pressing himself into it desperately hard as a sharp, loud, deep cry tore its way up his throat and into the still, sterile air. The Master finally let go of the Doctor's neck, instead burying his forehead against the bitten skin. All movement halted for just a moment as the Master felt the other Timelord's muscles tighten around him. He bared his teeth and hissed loudly.

They resumed, the pace no longer as furious as it had been, but the movements still as rough and full of that strange mixture of lust and anger. The Master jerked the Doctor forwards with his thrusts, the other man reacting each time with another deep moan; another desperate shudder of his muscles. He was practically tearing at the Master's hair now, clutching to it as though to a cliff face. The Doctor's face had lost its sinister snarl, but had instead contorted into an almost painfully deep look of intensity: his eyes screwed tightly shut against the other Timelord's shoulder; his mouth open and his teeth bared almost wildly as he pushed back against the Master.

His whole body was now beginning to quiver furiously. His muscles clenched around the other Timelord. The Master was hissing at the sheer intensity of the moment, his breath against the Doctor's neck, but the taller man barely registered it; barely even noticed that his own voice was growing louder with each move of their hips, each jerk of the other Timelord's arm around his back. He pressed his forehead even harder into the Master's shoulder, apparently at a loss as to how else to deal with the sensations that were now racking every inch of him. He clutched his legs around the Master's waist almost painfully hard, pushed the other Timelord closer into his neck, and with one final, desperate jerk of both men's hips, the Doctor came.

He let out an almost deafening shout against the Master's shoulder, every inch of skin shuddering, flecked with sweat under the fluorescent light as he felt the space between them fill with warmth. The Master reacted to the shout; to the sensation of the Doctor's hips jerking uncontrollably against him, and barely a few seconds later he made a noise into the Doctor's neck that seemed a curious combination of a furious hiss and a moan. He snatched at the other man's hip with his free hand, pulling the Doctor down against him as he climaxed.

A moment later both of them were finally still; both of them resting their foreheads against the other man's skin, and both chests heaving desperately after the exertion of what had just happened. The Master's face, even though it was hidden in the Doctor's neck, for once seemed to relax. There was no sneer, no snarl, no mocking smile. He simply panted against the other Timelord's neck, taking his bitten lower lip into his mouth to suck away the blood.

And very slowly, as the intensity of the moment began to slip away; as the Doctor regained his breath, and the long-hidden fury and self-loathing began to slide back into his subconscious, his face began to change. Every second, he became more aware. Pains suddenly tore at every inch of his shivering body, and his stomach churned. His hearts, though already pounding inside his chest, began to flutter in fear – the kind of fear that the Master would never have been able to instil in him on his own.

He rested against the other Timelord's shoulder – their connection and the long-dormant memories that went with it offering at least a low level of comfort – and hid his face, waiting for the Master to regain his breath, and for another wave of whatever level of insanity took the other Timelord next.

He only hoped that the next one wouldn't take him with it permanently.


	41. Chapter 38

**Note**: Next chapter is one I've been desperate to write. SOME ANSWERS ARE COMING! This scene was a bit heartbreaking to write, but as I said before: not all is as it seems. Hopefully things will _start_ to become clear very soon.

Blog post is now up

**Chapter 38**

The Doctor didn't want to move. Moving meant facing up to his own actions; facing up to the Master after the other Timelord had seen a part of him that even the Doctor didn't want to admit existed, and he knew that as soon as one of them moved the brief moment's silence would be shattered. A new onslaught would begin. While he knew somehow that the immediate threat of death had passed, he was also horrifically aware of how close he'd come to something worse than death; something that the Timelord he could hear slowly regaining his breath had always been a terrible reminder of.

Given someone to protect; a cause to fight for or people to save, the Doctor had always been ready to jump into action without hesitation; but this had become a personal battle; one that had sprung up at him unexpectedly from the depths of his past, and he had never been very brave in the face of those.

The fear was threatening to turn to anger now, and it worried him. He was angry at himself, of course, but what truly worried him was that there was anger growing in the pit of his stomach directed at the other person in the room. He was growing angry with the Master; at the corner he'd backed him into.

For the first time in lifetimes; for the first time since long before the Time War, he was angry at the Master on a completely personal level – the only other Timelord in existence, and the only person in the whole of space and time that the Doctor knew he had no right at all to be angry with.

The Master's chest had stopped heaving. The Doctor lowered his legs back to the floor and removed his hands, pulling back from his shoulder before the other Timelord could recover enough to speak. The Master reacted to the move by pulling away from the Doctor's neck. His hand slid away from his back and he stood upright, opening his eyes as they pulled away from each other. The Doctor clenched his jaw as those dark eyes met his, looking into them knowingly.

The Master's mouth moved into the shadow of a sinister smirk. After a moment he raised a finger to his bitten lower lip, swept across it and then glanced down. The dark speck of blood looked almost black in the harsh light. He snorted.

"See?" he hissed, eyes flickering back upwards to the Doctor. His neck arched forwards, leaning in almost conspiratorially as a vicious snarl returned to his face. A tongue darted out against his broken lip. "I win."

The Doctor's stomach clenched. The anger he was trying to keep so desperately at bay suddenly darted upwards. He slammed his hands into the Master's chest and shoved him backwards. The Master staggered at the sudden force behind the push, but he didn't retaliate. He looked into the Doctor's glaring face and began to laugh, his teeth on show as his eyes wrinkled. He raised the back of his hand to his bleeding lip.

"Oh has he gone already?" The Master laughed. The sound set the Doctor's teeth on edge. He pulled himself painfully away from the wall, keeping his eyes on the other Timelord as he put a little more distance between them. He was trying desperately to keep his anger in check. Anger was of no use here, it could only aggravate the situation. "I was hoping for something a bit more dramatic than that." The laughter faded from the Master's face and his lip curled in disgust. He leaned down to snatch up his trousers and jacket from where they'd slid to the floor, eyes flickering contemptuously over the other Timelord. "Ever the disappointment."

The Doctor's entire body felt on the verge of collapse. After everything he'd been through today – from being handcuffed to the bridge of the Valiant, to… what had just happened - he was fiercely exhausted. His legs were threatening to give way, but he stood upright despite it. He was fighting off anger, fear, and his own vast share of disappointment: The Master was no longer full of that violent fury that had appeared with the screwdriver, but in some ways this was worse. It was more personal.

He tried to remember the advice he had given to Tish that very morning, although it seemed a lifetime ago: don't give the Master ammunition. The Master was more than capable of lashing out with physical violence given the right prompt, but it was now the mental attacks that worried him: Opening his mouth, giving in to temptation could place him in danger of losing himself, and via him Martha, the Earth, the Master himself, and the entire universe could lose their only chance of survival.

The Master began to dress, his eyes still planted contemptuously on the Doctor as the taller Timelord stood motionless in the middle of the room. He shrugged on his jacket over the ripped shirt, covering up the dark bite mark on his neck.

"No?" An eyebrow twitched upwards. The Doctor's fists clenched. "Are we sulking, or did you lose your voice?" He snorted, turning his back dismissively as he made his way, swaggering arrogantly towards the door. "You were _ridiculously_ loud-"

"Why do I get under your skin so much?"

The Doctor heard his own voice as if from a distance, and it made him panic. The words had come out in an angry snarl, and his teeth had bared once more. The Master paused at the open door.

The shorter Timelord seemed to hesitate for a fraction of a second, his back still turned. The Doctor felt his hearts thundering for what felt like the millionth time today. After what had happened on the bridge, what he had just said could be a death sentence.

But the Master's mood had obviously changed since then. He suddenly tilted his head back and laughed derogatively, resting his hand against the doorframe. "Is _that_ what you think this is?"

He looked over his shoulder, his eyes full of dark amusement as they settled on the Doctor. He pouted patronisingly, brow furrowing. "Oh bless him."

The Doctor's stomach felt as though it was writhing. He was shaking through exhaustion, his chest heaving in anger as the Master's hand slid away from the doorframe. He turned and made his way back across the room, that patronising pout still on his face as he came close. The Doctor stood still. He didn't dare to move. Not because of what the Master might do, but because of what he himself might.

The Master leaned in close, still pouting, and placed a hand on his cheek.

"Doctor." He intoned quietly. "…_Sweetheart._" And then the pout fell from his face. His eyes narrowed and he leaned in even closer, his hand still on the Doctor's cheek as his voice lowered to a growl. "The only reason you're still alive is because I like watching you squirm."

The words hung in the air, settling over the Doctor like a storm cloud. His frown grew darker, and he stared into the other Timelord's face as a convoluted mixture of anger and grief fought for first place in his chest.

The Master's eyes suddenly flickered oddly as he looked at the expression on the Doctor's face. His jaw muscles quivered. A strange snarl twitched its way across his mouth and he suddenly snapped both hands up to the Doctor's head. He pulled him forwards, planting a furious kiss on his forehead, and then turned his back once more, walking quickly from the room without a backwards glance.

The Doctor stood alone in the blank white room as the door closed silently. He stared at it, his eyes wide and his brows low as his chest heaved under the weight of the emotions now twisting inside him. A moment passed in silence, and then suddenly he lunged forwards with his teeth bared in fury. He grabbed the chest of drawers that stood by the now closed door and wrenched it forwards. It fell onto the carpet with a deafening crash, but the noise of it was almost drowned into nothing by the sudden, furious roar that tore its way from the Doctor's heaving chest.

_The sound sent a horrific shudder down Jack's spine. He'd never heard rage like it from the Doctor, and it was almost a relief when the image before him began to dim, the sound still ringing in his ears as the space around faded to black. His heart felt as though he had been running for miles after what he had just witnessed, and he now felt even more confused by the situation than ever. _

_ He turned towards the Doctor and opened his mouth, ready with a question, but the Timelord was already far away from him, his back turned as he strode unnaturally swiftly towards the Tardis doors._


	42. Interlude III

**Note:** Here! Have some answers at last! You have no idea how long I've held on to this.

It is rather long, but hopefully worth it.

Another thing to mention: the Master's canon can be a bit conflicted, post and pre-reboot. Where there's conflict I come down on the side of the RTD era, so bear that in mind.

I'm now on hiatus until mid-January, but I'll still reply to PMs and reviews etc. (and please do leave a review if you enjoy what you read - it makes me happy). Also, I wanted to congratulate some of you on your detective skills - three of you PMed me with questions about their history, and your suspicions are confirmed below. You clever things.

And the blog post - finally - is now up. You can find the link on my profile, as always.

**Interlude III**

The Tardis had a way of stealing time.

Jack had no idea how long it had been since the Doctor had dragged him through those doors – head spinning – and placed him on the floor, but if he had to estimate, he'd say he had been here no more than a day and a half. In that brief time, Jack had been taken on a whirlwind tour of insanity, chaos and devastation – in more ways than one – that had left him with a dizzying sense of confusion.

He began to think about what the Doctor had said to him, just before this strange journey had begun: that it would change the way Jack saw him. That was true, though maybe not in the way the Doctor had expected. After seeing just a fraction of what life had been like for him on board the Valiant; after realising how much had actually happened to him that year, and how complicated the situation really was, all Jack felt right now was an even deeper sense of respect and affection for the man than before. The very fact that he had survived with any semblance of sanity left seemed like a miracle.

He was beginning to think that his own experience - being chained up, fed on dregs and repeatedly dying – had probably been the quieter life.

He bowed his head and sighed, the sound of it lost in the Tardis' own noises. He would have closed his eyes, but he knew what would be waiting for him there: that look of rage and pain on the Doctor's face seemed to have etched itself into the backs of his eyelids, and the ear-splitting roar hadn't stopped ringing in his ears. It was as though even after the memory had faded, he could still hear the Doctor screaming inside his head.

If Jack really did live forever, that was one memory he was sure he would never be rid of.

A sharp snap interrupted his thoughts and he looked up. The Tardis doors creaked open, a patch of blinding sunlight falling across the floor. The tall, thin figure of the Doctor stepped in. He was carrying something under his arm, and his face lifted into a half-smile as his eyes found Jack's. Jack wondered how he could so easily pretend that everything was normal after what they'd seen so far, but then he supposed that nine centuries of practice had taught him well.

"Dinner."

"Oh thank god." Jack laughed weakly. "Didn't wanna say anything, but I'm starving."

"Well, had to make sure that hangover was out of your system first." His nose wrinkled and he shook his head. "Tardis… not a fan of _vomit._ She tends to get a bit uppity."

The doors swung shut behind him as he pulled the paper parcel from under his arm. The brief glimpse of sunlight receded to a sliver and then disappeared.

The Doctor threw the package down carelessly on the step above Jack, then sat down opposite him, his back against one of the poles lining the steps. Jack felt his stomach lurch uncomfortably. The position reminded him of the bridge of the Valiant. Not that he told him that: since they'd left that last memory, it had been painfully obvious that the Doctor was avoiding the subject, as though he too needed breathing space; a chance to clear his head. After the last scene, Jack didn't blame him.

"So…" Jack reached forwards and began undoing the paper. "What we got?"

"Ooh, delicacy."

But before the paper was even undone, the captain knew what it was. That smell was all too familiar.

He stopped short and looked up, an eyebrow raised.

"Chips?"

The Doctor grinned, reaching forwards to finish unwrapping them himself.

"The cuisine of the whole of time and space to choose from, and you choose chips?"

"I like chips." He said simply. He raised one between his fingers, frowning at it thoughtfully as he inspected it. "Chips are good."

Jack snorted at the words. "What, they run out of bananas today?"

A reminiscent smirk made its way across the Timelord's face as his eyes moved away from the food in his hand. He tossed it carelessly into his mouth and rested one of his feet on the step between them, getting comfortable.

But Jack's words were only meant in play. If there was one thing he missed about Earth it was the food. As unhealthy and unimaginative as it could be, there was something oddly comforting about it. He leaned up to the white paper between them and started eating.

After a moment, the Doctor made a noise of enjoyment in the back of his throat and closed his eyes. "Oh yes, now _this_ was definitely worth the detour." He said, his mouth full. "Best chips in Cardiff."

Jack stopped chewing. For a moment he looked like he was about to choke. He looked into the Timelord's face, leaned forwards and frowned, but the Doctor had his eyes fixed on one of the walls.

"…Where?"

"Cardiff." Said the Doctor, as though the word held no significance whatsoever.

"So…" Jack swallowed the mouthful of food and turned his head almost nervously towards the doors. "Outside right now… is –"

"Cardiff." Confirmed the Doctor, still in that light, conversational tone. He snatched up another chip and threw it into his mouth, his eyes still averted from Jack's face.

Jack had stopped eating, his eyes fixed on the white panelled doors. Cardiff. On the other side, just a few small steps away, would be Cardiff Bay. They would be right on top of – what was possibly now – a completely abandoned Torchwood. He felt his fists squeezing shut as they rested on the step beside him. Memories came back to him unbidden; memories he'd spent the last few months trying to forget. Memories of Gwen… Tosh… Owen… _Ianto_.

The Doctor didn't move; however his eyes flickered down to Jack's while he knew the captain was looking elsewhere. He seemed to read his thoughts.

"You could always take a peek?"

The sound of the Doctor's voice brought Jack back to reality. He looked towards him. The Timelord was now watching him carefully, an eyebrow raised just slightly. His head twitched towards the Tardis doors. "See what you've missed?"

Jack let out a strained sigh and looked back at the doors. He shook his head slowly, unable to think of what to say.

"Oh go on." The Doctor urged gently. "A peek wouldn't hurt."

He shook his head again silently. After a moment he turned bodily away from the doors, turning on the step towards the Doctor. A painful grimace pulled at his features and he looked down at his hands in shame. "I… I can't go back."

The Doctor watched him for a moment, chewing his food slowly. His blinked, his eyes lidding tiredly while Jack gazed downwards. Even if he'd hoped otherwise, he understood the sentiment all too well.

Eventually the Timelord sniffed and looked away. "Ah fair enough." He settled himself a little more comfortably on the steps and rested an arm on his knee, tilting his head back against the pole to look thoughtfully at the ceiling of the Tardis as he ate.

It was a few moments before Jack moved again. When he did, the Doctor was lost in his own thoughts. That look of deep tiredness that only seemed visible occasionally had returned to his face.

He didn't want to break the silence. However the Doctor wanted to pretend, he knew that that last scene must have been painful to remember, but there were questions that now desperately needed answering.

"Doctor?"

The word seemed to make the Timelord frown. His throat tightened visibly and Jack noticed that his fingers twitched as they rested against his knee. For a moment he wondered what was wrong, but then as if out of nowhere he suddenly realised what it was: the Doctor was expecting him to ask about what the Master had said; about the Time War, and about him refusing to carry weapons. His heart sank. That was an aspect of the other man that he knew he had no business asking about. Everybody had their demons. It only stood to reason that someone who had seen and been through as much as the Doctor would have his fair share.

Almost reluctantly, the Doctor lowered his eyes from the ceiling and back to the human sitting opposite him. His face seemed calm, but Jack saw that element of worry lurking behind it.

"…when you were on the bridge," Jack had worded it very carefully, trying to give the Timelord some reassurance about the topic he was approaching. It worked. The Doctor's face seemed to relax a little, "when you were tied up…" but this was still an awkward subject to talk about, and Jack was struggling with how to do so. Eventually he grunted in frustration and looked at the food between them. Perhaps this would be an easier subject to broach without eye contact. "…I gotta admit I was worried that…"

The Doctor suddenly understood what he was trying to say. He felt his stomach churn and he frowned. He realised that he was shaking his head strenuously. The last mouthful of food seemed to go down in lumps, and suddenly he wasn't hungry anymore. "No."

And that was extreme confusion in Jack's face. The Doctor's expression softened just slightly. He couldn't blame him, he supposed: watching from the outside must be difficult at best, and Jack was only seeing a miniscule part of a story that had been unfolding – from the Doctor's side of things, at least – for just over nine centuries. How could he possibly explain in words?

"No." He said, a little more gently. He took in a breath and looked away, then began talking in that matter-of-fact way that Jack had begun to relate with something painful. "Oh don't get me wrong – murder me? Always a possibility. Mental torture?"

"Definitely." Interjected Jack darkly, thinking about that last set of memories. The Doctor 'hmm'-ed in agreement.

"One of his specialities. Physical torture?" He seemed to think about that for a moment. Once again Jack interjected with a cold snort.

"I can vouch for that."

"Well you were human."

There was a brief pause. Jack looked at him oddly, and the Doctor suddenly realised what he'd said; how offhanded his words had sounded. Jack had spent a year in squalor and torment, after all. That wasn't something anybody should be offhanded about.

"I'm sorry." He said quietly, voice full of sincerity. He sighed. "That's just the way he was. Oddly enough, he never did like _humans_ too much." The Doctor frowned deeply; thoughtfully, and then shook his head. "One thing we never saw eye-to-eye on, even before-"

The Doctor halted mid-sentence, his mouth hanging open as his eyes drifted away upwards. Jack got the impression that there was a particular memory replaying once more inside his head.

"It's fine." Offered Jack. The Timelord opposite him glanced back down with a dubious look, but Jack simply smiled. "Ah… believe me – that year on the Valiant? If I ever decide to write my – incredibly long and _completely _x-rated – autobiography? Not gonna make the edit."

"Shouldn't think a lot of things would." Replied the Doctor, quirking an eyebrow upwards. Jack's face broke into a grin.

"…but," he continued, "I've been through worse._ Way_ worse. And on the plus side –" Jack flashed him a smutty smile, "I always did look great with my shirt off."

"Anyway…" Said the Doctor loudly, glaring at him warningly. "Murder, psychological torment… the odd backhander across the face, which – by the way…" he raised a hand to his jaw and winced slightly, as though it still ached, "he nearly made a _habit_ of, that final regeneration. Definitely not one of his better traits. But _that-_" He shook his head again, frowning deeply. "No. His displays of power were all about spectacle. That was too…" but for once, the Doctor couldn't explain. At least not yet. There were some things he needed the other man to work out on his own.

Jack watched him, still as perplexed as before but a little relieved. "But what about the drums?"

The word sent a strange flicker of sadness through the Doctor's face. The very edges of his lips tilted upwards in a tired-looking smile. "He was mad, not stupid." He said quietly. "He'd lived with them for centuries; a few moments of peace wasn't worth it. Besides, he wanted me to give in on my own. Anything else… well, it would've spoiled all the fun." He concluded bitterly, then slid down one step, stretching his legs out and placing his hands behind his head. Jack stayed silent, still trying to process the information he'd been given. Trying to understand the Master's mind seemed beyond him.

The Doctor crossed his legs, his feet dangling over the side of the steps. He couldn't deny that he was a little disappointed – the very fact that they'd had to have that conversation meant that Jack was still missing the point of what he was being shown.

He couldn't blame him. It had taken the Doctor nearly three years after the Valiant to begin to unravel the truth; to make sense of the events that year, and Jack hadn't been there on Christmas Day; hadn't been there when the Master had begun to completely fall apart… hadn't been there at the end. All Jack had seen was the monster, and his perspective was coloured by that experience.

The Doctor felt his hearts skip a beat, though he kept his face neutral. He'd been leading Jack by the hand, hoping that he would make the connections himself, but it was becoming increasingly clear how difficult it was for him to comprehend. He had hoped so desperately he wouldn't need to do this.

Nonetheless he steeled himself, swallowed hard, and made the decision. It was time to share the story he'd kept hidden for so very long.

"When Martha asked if he was my brother," He said, in what he hoped was a conversational tone, though he felt Jack's focus return to him intently, "she was closer to the truth than she could ever have known."

Jack snorted. "Did you marry him or something?"

There was a silence. The Doctor looked up at him pointedly; seriously. Jack's eyes widened and he shook his head. "Please tell me you're kidding?"

Suddenly the serious look on the Doctor's face broke. He smiled and began to laugh. Jack let out a breath of relief, but he still glared. The Doctor was being infuriatingly playful about something so serious.

"It never got that far." He said, the amusement evident in his voice. "Which – you know - everybody was glad about: having a _failure_ in the family was one thing, but having the failure married to a madman?" He hissed through his teeth and shook his head. Apparently that idea would have been insufferable. "In fact," he continued, turning his gaze back towards the ceiling with a reminiscent smile, "there was only one person in the family who liked him."

The Doctor's smile fell slowly at his own words. That was another memory that had jumped out at him on Christmas Day, and the grief of it was still too raw.

Jack stretched his own legs out on the steps, watching the strange mixture of emotions that came with the Doctor's words. It seemed that answers were finally coming.

The Doctor's eyes flickered across the Tardis' ceiling. His face fell into a vague frown, and when he next spoke it was almost as though he had forgotten Jack was there. He spoke quietly, as if to himself.

"It started off innocently enough I suppose." He muttered. "Both sent to the academy on the same day… both initiated on the same day…" a shudder seemed to run down the Doctor's back, and this time, Jack knew, there was more to it than just fear of the event itself. The Doctor's frown deepened. "Even _named_ on the same day. Our whole lives in parallel-"

"You and the Master were at school together?" he interrupted, disbelief in his voice. The very idea of a psychopath like the other Timelord going to school like a normal child seemed beyond bizarre.

The Doctor sighed. "He wasn't the Master then. And I wasn't the Doctor. Just two kids, taken away from our families; sent to learn the powers and responsibilities that came with being a member of the great, wise and noble race of Timelords." Those last few words had come out almost sarcastically. A bitter look swept momentarily across the Doctor's face. "Both of us hated it. Both of us hated in return. Because me? Ooh I was a _coward_ – a coward and a know-it-all; and him? Well they were calling him mad even before the drums took hold." His eyes flickered back down to Jack and he raised an eyebrow. "Let's just say: he never did like playing by the rules.

"And so we became friends." Suddenly a painful smile appeared on the Doctor's face. His voice constricted. "Just two lost boys who found each other. But as we got older and that isolation grew… things began to change."

"You fell in love."

The Doctor looked away at the words. He seemed to swallow before he answered, and took in a deep breath.

"…we did, yeah." He said quickly, as though trying to get the words out of the way as fast as he could.

And finally, with every word the Doctor gave, Jack was starting to understand.

"But over time; so, so slowly… he began to lose himself. Started hearing noises… couldn't sleep… got angry; restless." The Doctor gritted his teeth in memory of the frustration. "I tried so _hard_ to keep him stable, but nothing seemed to work. Eventually, it all became too much."

Jack remembered some of the strange comments that had passed between them on the Valiant; things that had made no sense at the time, but suddenly seemed painfully clear.

"You walked away." He said quietly.

"Oh I didn't just _walk_ away," he muttered, and Jack heard that now familiar undertone of regret in his words. "I ran. As hard and far as I could. I had no idea how to help him. I was young… _naïve_." The Doctor let out a breath of cold laughter and looked at Jack, eyebrows arched, almost apologetically. "And I was scared. In the end, the Master's madness was corrosive… well -" his voice lowered to a growl "– you saw what it did to Lucy."

There was a moment of silence as Jack processed this new information. When the Doctor had told him that he and the Master had a history, he hadn't been sure what to imagine, but certainly not something quite so intense, complicated, and obviously painful. That first kiss, he realised, had been the first one they'd shared in nearly a millenium, and those moments when the two Timelords were alone - as complex and convoluted as they were - began to make a vague sort of sense.

His face softened into a sympathetic frown. "I'm sorry." The Doctor's eyes flickered across him curiously. Jack felt his stomach clench. He rubbed a hand over his eye subconsciously. "This whole situation… I misinterpreted completely."

The Timelord's eyes lidded. He shook his head gently. "You weren't to know."

There was a moment of deep silence. The Tardis hissed soothingly around them, but Jack felt as if his insides were missing. The Doctor had lost so much – Rose, his family, his people – and now it turned out the Master was another painful loss to add to the list. Jack had his fair share of pain, but nothing compared to what the Doctor had experienced.

"With me gone," continued the Doctor, his voice returning to that matter-of-fact tone. He sat back up on the step with a grunt and stretched, "without anyone to hold him back, all that rage and madness poured outwards. He started to become the Master – in fact as well as name.

"Eventually, I moved on. Got married… had kids… grandkids…" A sad smile came to his face at that last word, and Jack was sure it was yet another memory he was reliving. After a moment he pulled himself out of it and frowned. "…everything he could never have."

The captain opened his mouth to object, but then shut it again. Whatever Lucy was – whether the Master had loved her in his own way, or whether she was just some twisted plaything – she certainly wasn't what Jack would call a wife. He let the Doctor continue.

"…The next time I saw him, he was a different man. _Literally_ a different man. And everything I'd ever-" he hesitated, "cared about, had gone. Or so I thought.

"And so it began." He bared his teeth, a bitter edge to his voice. "Nearly eight-hundred years of _fighting_. And I dunno…" The Doctor suddenly sighed loudly and looked at the nearly empty chip wrapper on the steps. He reached over Jack's leg and grabbed one. "Maybe it was better that way. At least when we were attacking each other with swords I knew what to expect."

The story he'd just been told had made Jack feel numb, but nonetheless he couldn't help smiling at that last sentence. "You had a swordfight?"

The Doctor's face lightened as he tore the chip in half with his teeth. He let out a snort of laughter and looked up. "In a lighthouse. I recommend it. Good cardio."

Again, the Doctor was being strangely upbeat, but Jack knew that this was probably the most open he'd been with anyone in centuries. Normally the Timelord was an extremely private man, never answering questions about his past unless completely necessary. He was seeing a side of the Doctor that was normally guarded, and apparently for good reason. He felt deeply privileged.

"So when Martha said 'brother'," Jack urged, "it was more than that."

"Mmm." Agreed the Doctor. The chip wrapper was now empty, and he reached over and grabbed it, balling it up between his long fingers. "He was my best friend. The first person I ever-" again, the Timelord stopped himself short, and Jack was beginning to wonder why, after all they'd seen. "But, more than that. Metaphorically speaking –" The Doctor suddenly rolled his eyes, "and _please -_ understand that I'm talking completely metaphorically here. Any more than that would take this situation to a whole new level of wrong – but… metaphorically speaking, I suppose – in the end…" he took a very deep breath, frowned, and the next words came out in a quiet, constricted breath, "…he was family."

Those three words took the breath from Jack's lungs. It was as though a fog had suddenly lifted from his mind. "…And you abandoned him."

The Doctor didn't reply. He balled the paper tightly in his hands and stood up, avoiding eye contact.

But Jack was finally beginning to understand more than just the two Timelords' relationship. He suddenly realised that it was more than chance that had brought the Doctor to the bar that night. Despite what the Doctor insisted, it was more than the fact that he was the only one left. Jack gritted his teeth and bowed his head, interlacing his fingers distractedly. "…How long have you known about Gray?"

The Doctor's eyes finally lowered, watching him pointedly for a moment, then the Timelord walked away, over Jack's outstretched legs and back towards the centre console.

"So," He said loudly, "what happened to Alonzo? Good old Lonzy-lonzo. I would have thought he was perfect for you, Jack."

Jack still felt winded, but he took the hint. He forced a smile and looked upwards as the Doctor placed the rubbish down and began pressing buttons. "Maybe he was; I wouldn't know. He was only on planet leave for a few weeks."

The Doctor paused and looked back down at him. "I'm sorry."

Jack laughed.

"Oh don't be. They were good, _good_ weeks."

A weak smile made its way across the Doctor's face. He turned back to his work with the expression still on his features.

"We going back?" Sighed Jack, stretching as he slid back up to his feet.

"…Yep."

"How much left?"

"A bit." Said the Doctor evasively. Jack shook his head.

"Did he even know what he was doing?"

The comment made the Doctor pause once more. They hadn't discussed that last memory at all, but it had been at the front of Jack's mind. Apparently, it had been at the front of the Doctor's, too.

He stared down at the console in front of him. "Oh he knew what he was doing." He muttered darkly, and then frowned in thought. "In fact, I think that's about as close to _clarity_ as it came for the Master, that final regeneration."

Jack made his way slowly up the steps again. Despite the explanations he'd got so far, that last scene still made no sense. The Doctor looked up at him, saw the confusion in his face and smiled. "Don't you understand? We were getting too close; too comfortable."

The captain looked at him in confusion. While some things were slowly starting to make sense, that last set of memories seemed anything but comfortable. "Comfortable's really not the word I'd use."

The Doctor ignored it and continued. "It was that comment about Lucy that did it, I think. He finally started to realise." The Timelord's eyebrows lifted upwards. "That first time on the Valiant, we'd opened a door." He said darkly. "A door that had stood locked for a very long time, and that neither of us knew how to close. So-" his lip twisted into a distasteful grimace, "he did what he always did – what he always _had_ done when he was cornered: he lashed out.

"From the point he put the screwdriver away, as much as I'd like to think otherwise, the rest of that night was engineered." He sighed. He pulled his hands away from the console and tilted his head thoughtfully. "…more or less."

"He was pushing you away?"

"In his own twisted, dangerous way." Conceded the Doctor. He glanced into one of the screens, then strode to the other side of the console opposite Jack. "That should have been an end to it. And it probably would have been – if it weren't for Lucy."

Jack wasn't sure if he'd heard correctly. He walked towards the console and rested his hands on the edge, leaning forwards with a look of incredulity on his face. "The Master's _wife?_"

Again, the Doctor smiled at his confusion. "Didn't you notice?" he said, laughter in his voice. "Neither did the Master. He never did pay much attention to detail… right to the very end." A flicker of emotion seemed to flash behind the Doctor's eyes at those words. "The day he burned Japan… she cried."

"And that means something?"

"Oh it means everything." Replied the Timelord, looking at him seriously. "Of course, I had to wait another five months before she acted on it."

Jack frowned once more at his offhanded tone. Five months alone. The Doctor had fallen apart after ten days, before. Five months – especially after that last scene – should have sent him insane.

"Five months? How did you cope?"

"Well, the Master visited me from time to time. Had a bit of a gloat." He said, and then another strange smile flashed across his face. "I don't think he could keep away; not totally. And when I was alone, I concentrated harder than ever on what needed to be done."

For once, Jack understood. "The psychic network."

"Because it took me a few weeks to work out, but when the Master backed away, he made the choice not to kill me." The Doctor's eyes flashed brightly in the glow of the Tardis' core. "That little spark of mercy gave me the one thing he never wanted me to have."

There was a pause. Jack looked at him curiously. The Doctor's lip twitched in a bitter smile. "_Hope._"

"You still had Martha." But he knew before the words had even come out of his mouth that they were inappropriate: that wasn't the kind of hope the Doctor meant. He sighed. Admittedly Jack had now seen flickers of something in the Master that he'd never expected to, but he still couldn't help feeling that the Doctor was being extremely over-optimistic.

"You honestly think that was enough worth hoping for?"

"Better yet –" Said the Doctor, his voice once again loud, "here's a question for you, Jack."

And the Doctor had returned to being evasive. Jack raised both hands to his temples and massaged them furiously. "No more questions! Believe me, I've got enough of my own!"

"Oh but it's a good one." Said the Doctor lightly. He reached forwards over the panel and grabbed one of the levers. By instinct, Jack snatched out for something to hold on to. "If he _knew_ we were so similar…" The Doctor was now smiling. He raised an eyebrow inquisitively as Jack's eyes darted to his face, "…what did that say about him?"


	43. Chapter 39

**Note: **Thanks for being patient. Uni is still attempting to kill me with stress, so I don't know when the next chapter will be up, but as always, you guys have been amazing with the support. And - I know I say it every chapter - but reviews would be lovely. It's nice to hear from you lot.

I suppose I should come clean about this set of memories: there will be no sex *gasp*. Like I said in the note at the beginning: this is a story _with_ sex, not _about_ sex. I want to cover everything, and that includes the fighting. I only mention it because I know most of you are dirty beasts and are expecting it. There are some sexy bits in the next section though, so don't worry.

But let's face it: these two fighting is practically foreplay.

Blog post is up :)

Until next chapter,

_Turkaholic_

**Chapter 39**

There was no moon tonight.

Or if there was, no rays of it could penetrate the thick layer of cloud that smothered the sky. They hung still and silent over the scarred earth, no breath of wind in the air to move them, and yet there was movement: High above the surface, the now familiar flickers of light swept across the sky. Any eyes that were still awake to watch paid little attention to them, except when they came near; however something else stirred in the inky-blackness. A vast shadow drifted overhead, like a phantom; a terrifying void in the darkness.

There could be no doubt what it was, and those who saw it couldn't tear their eyes from the sight. The Master was passing over them, surveying his subjects from the Valiant. Those on the surface only hoped that they would avoid his attention: The word Japan still sent shudders down the spine of every human on the Earth.

High above, the little light the night provided filtered through the windows of the silent ship. The nearly-abandoned corridors were cast in an ethereal glow, the only noises those of the engines humming, and the sound of the air conditioning as it hissed and sighed in the empty space.

The Doctor could hear both. He'd grown used to the noises of the Valiant by now, but right now he was listening to the air conditioning, pumping its ever sterile air into the tiny room. All those months ago it had made him homesick; had reminded him too much of the Tardis, but now it had become a beacon: a reminder of what he was waiting for; what he was working for.

He sat on the floor, his back to the unmade bed, the ghoulish glow of the night outside falling through the small window and casting its dim light across his face. To all appearances he seemed to be sleeping: his eyes were shut, his breathing deep and slow, but he was in fact wide awake. Sleep was eluding him, as it so often did, and so he'd resigned himself to listening to the noises of the Valiant at night. He was imagining himself back in a newly-fixed Tardis. It was something to hold on to in the silence.

He could feel the psychic network, like the tiniest thread running across his mind. He was starting to feel it permanently now. His brain was beginning to feel so full of thoughts and connections that it was like having a constant headache, but at least it meant the plan was working. He only hoped that Martha – wherever she was right now – was safe, and doing what he'd asked her to. Everything depended on her.

_ "If I wanted to watch someone sleeping? I'd be back at the bar."_

_ The Doctor looked into his own face, remembering the strange sense of isolation as if it had been yesterday. He had grown used to being alone over the years, but this had been something completely different, and it had taken a different kind of mental strength to cope with; one he'd never known he possessed until then. "People aren't always doing what they appear to be." He said quietly. "That's one lesson you never learned, Jack Harkness."_

_ Jack examined the Doctor at his side for a moment before he answered. Something had changed, though he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. Even though the Doctor still seemed deeply troubled, it was as though some of the weight had lifted from his shoulders. He couldn't say for certain why it was, but he could guess._

_ He said nothing about it, however; he merely brushed a hand through his hair and laughed. "Feels like I'm getting a crash-course, now." _

_ The Doctor didn't answer, but a small smile lifted one side of his mouth momentarily. Apparently he approved of the reply._

The Doctor let his head lilt back against the bed, the soft rustle of bedclothes disturbing the near silence. He couldn't deny that he was tired, but he hadn't been an easy sleeper in a very long time. Even less so, these last seven months: he could sense the other Timelord from here; like a constant, distant echo in his ear. Even if he accepted that there was still hope, as long as the Master was in control he could still fall into a rage, or suddenly decide the Doctor was too much of a risk to be left alive. Hope – as the Doctor knew painfully well – was no guarantee.

Especially when it came to that man.

As if on cue, the Doctor's eyes snapped open. He stared up at the nearly-black ceiling and frowned. After a moment he pulled his head away from the bed, sitting upright. He shifted a knee towards him, folding his arms across it as he waited. A sigh rose up from his chest, though whether it was through relief or anxiety, even the Doctor couldn't tell.

He listened, though this time he was trying to hear past the air conditioning, waiting for something else. Inevitably he heard the approach of footsteps echoing from beyond the door. He glanced towards the noise just for a moment, then turned his gaze away, concentrating instead on the blank wall.

The door slid open and the Doctor felt a rush of cold air hit his face. He breathed it in gratefully, but didn't move.

The Master stood in the doorway. His eyes caught the dim, ghostly glow of the night sky beyond the tiny window. For a moment he frowned, worry or confusion in his face as he surveyed the empty, unmade bed. The Doctor moved his head slightly. The Master's eyes snapped towards the movement, and suddenly he smirked.

"…sleeping on the floor now, Doctor?" came that arrogant, mocking voice. The Doctor didn't reply. The Master snorted. "Just look at what you've become."

The Doctor let the insult lie. At least if the Master was mocking him it meant he was in a stable mood, and as much as he hated to admit it, the sound of a voice other than his own was a relief. He continued to gaze at the wall as he heard the other man's footsteps advance across the room.

The Master halted beside the bed, looking down into the illuminated face of the other Timelord carefully. After a moment he lowered himself, sitting on his haunches with his hands clasped in front of him. The Doctor didn't make eye contact, but his glare darkened at the wall. That reaction, however, seemed to be enough to satisfy the other man. He smiled darkly and stood back up, glancing towards the tiny window.

"…America." He said quietly. "You should take a look. I think I've improved it."

The Doctor didn't react. The Master's smile faltered just slightly at the silence and he turned away from the other Timelord, sliding onto the empty bed. He placed his hands on his stomach as he glared up at the ceiling. A finger arched and began tapping against his shirt silently.

The Doctor closed his eyes. He could feel the Master's presence behind him, and every instinct – both of danger and… anything else – told him that this was not a good position to be in, but he had no choice. He had long since learned not to retaliate. He could still remember that night five months ago, and how close the Master had come to destroying him. Whether that had been his intention or not didn't matter, the fact remained that it had happened, and the Doctor couldn't afford to get that close again. He had to wait; wait for Martha, and after that…

But that was getting ahead of himself. The present was what mattered now. The Master was here to taunt him, which meant he wasn't an immediate threat. He kept his eyes closed and listened to the other Timelord's breathing, allowing himself to appreciate the company just a little.

The Master almost seemed to be doing the same. He, too, had his eyes closed as if listening. He settled himself down on the bed, a dark smirk sliding across his face.

"You should see Mount Rushmore," he said suddenly, his voice soft and quivering with self-appreciation. "Some of my best work. Well…" the smirk drifted upwards into a grin. "I say _my_ work-"

The Doctor opened his eyes as the Timelord behind him began to laugh; a harsh, jarring sound like glass breaking as he tilted his head back against the pillow. "You know…" he continued, still laughing, "you were absolutely right about these humans: they really can work…" the laughter faded, and a sneer took its place. His bared teeth caught the light from the window. "…when you eviscerate a few." He growled.

The Doctor felt his stomach twist, that ancient tangle of emotions rising at the Master's words: disgust, regret, and sadness pulled at him. He lowered his eyes to the floor, trying to push it away as best he could.

The Master opened his eyes. They began to flicker across the ceiling thoughtfully. "Ooh… another good word. _Eviscerate_." The word rolled off his tongue in an appreciative hiss. "…_Eviscerate_… _Decimate…_ this language, Doctor…" He tilted his head towards the other Timelord. The Doctor felt the eyes burning into the back of his head. "So _many_ excellent words."

The Doctor opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again before he could be tempted. Silence was his best defence right now, no matter how much he wanted some form of interaction. He swallowed instead, reminding himself that all he needed to do was wait.

The Master surveyed the back of the Doctor's head, and for a moment – in the dull glow of the deep night outside – some strange emotion flickered in his eyes. He frowned and sniffed dismissively, turning his gaze back towards the ceiling.

Minutes passed in silence, the Master splayed arrogantly on the Doctor's bed as he surveyed the ceiling; the Doctor with his eyes on the carpet, his arms crossed on his knee. Eventually the Master seemed to grow tired of the silence and grunted.

"Glad to see your conversational skills haven't dulled in your old age." He muttered childishly.

The Doctor heard the rustle of movement behind him and tensed, unsure what it meant. Even if it had been five months, he could still remember the cold feel of the screwdriver against his skin. All the other Timelord was doing however was looking at his watch. He sighed and sat up.

"After midnight. A glorious new day begins over my dominion…" he bit his lower lip, studying the air in front of him almost manically, "and every day brings us closer to launch day."

The taller Timelord kept his thoughts to himself. The Master had no idea that the words he'd just said had given the Doctor courage.

"Anyway," said the Master. He slid himself back towards the edge of the bed, "as… _enthralling_ as your company is, I have preparations to make." He turned to the other Timelord with a humourless smile. "The universe isn't going to destroy _itself._"

The Master rose back to his feet slowly, his demeanour full of elated self-importance. He rolled his neck with a low grunt and took one last look at the motionless Doctor on the floor. He studied him for a moment, then snorted and made his way back towards the door.

The Doctor finally moved. He raised his eyes from the carpet and looked at the Master's back as the other Timelord walked away.

"Oh-"

The Doctor shifted his gaze back to the carpet as the Master turned on the spot.

"One more thing…" the Master raised his eyes to the ceiling with a twisted smirk. He stuck his tongue between his teeth in mock-thought, "now what _was_ that old Earth saying? Oh yes…" his eyes darted downwards to the Doctor once more. An eyebrow twitched upwards.

"…_'Merry Christmas'_"

With that, the Master turned his back, walked towards the opening door and stepped through. His footsteps echoed away into nothingness, and soon the Doctor was alone once more, nothing but the familiar hiss of the air conditioning to keep him company.


	44. Chapter 40

**Note:** As you all know by now, uni makes these updates pretty sporadic. I don't know when the next chapter will be up, but hopefully soon. Thanks for all the support so far (yes I know I say it all the time but that doesn't make me mean it any less).

Blog post is up.

**Chapter 40**

The Doctor waited until the Master's presence had faded before he moved again. Soon all that was left of it was that elusive echo in his ear. Wherever on the ship he was now, he obviously had no intention of returning any time soon. The Doctor let out another sigh, finally allowing his head to tilt back against the now vacant bed. It was still warm.

Christmas. He'd almost forgotten about Christmas. Life on the Valiant seemed so removed from reality that the idea of a world outside of it – one with Christmas and people and normal conversations – was beginning to feel like a long-forgotten dream. His entire existence had become focused on one single event: Launch Day. The Doctor smiled grimly up at the ceiling. For the first time since their first lifetimes, both he and the Master were waiting for exactly the same thing. The irony wasn't lost on him.

He pulled himself to his feet suddenly, all thought of sleep swept away by the Master's final words - which he knew had probably been the point. Christmas morning had arrived over whatever was left of America. He wondered if anybody down on the surface remembered it; if they were celebrating it in secret somehow. People always seemed to find a way. He began pacing across the enclosed space, giving his legs some well-needed exercise, his head bowed in thought.

The smallest of smiles came to his face as he remembered where he'd been this time last year. Donna Noble. He'd liked her. She'd given him earache, but she'd been so beautifully, honestly human. And the year before that…

The smile fell. He raised his eyes to the ceiling, blocking that memory out. She couldn't help him here. There were enough old wounds lingering on board the Valiant without adding more.

The Doctor halted suddenly as movement caught his eye. He tilted his head towards it with a confused frown. Outside the window, tiny flecks of grey were drifting downwards from the sky, flitting silently past the Valiant as they fell to the earth far below.

Almost reluctantly he made his way towards the window, raising his hands to the wall either side as he leaned forwards. It was snowing. _Real_ snow. The Master had always had a taste for the dramatic. He couldn't help thinking that he had brought them here on purpose.

He stared out at it for a moment, eyes flickering across the horizon as he rested his forehead against the cold pane of glass. Whatever was beneath them was lost in the darkness of the night, and whatever it was he was sure he didn't want to see. Every time he looked from the window these days, he saw something more disturbing; some new act of vandalism or insanity that the other Timelord had visited on the planet. Thousands of rockets had begun to appear on what had once been green countryside; the Master had begun ripping open the face of the Earth for its natural resources. And then there were the Toclofane. The Doctor had pushed that grief back into his subconscious, but that didn't mean he didn't feel sick every time he saw one.

He just wished he could make the Master stand back and see this all the way he could.

He stood at the window, feeling the cold of the night outside permeate the glass, his eyes trained on the flakes of snow as they fell past him. Eventually he sighed, and for the first time in weeks, he heard the sound of his own voice.

"…Merry Christmas, Martha." He muttered.

A blast of cold air hit the back of his neck.

The sensation acted like a shot of adrenaline. He pulled away from the window and turned his head, looking at the door from the corner of his eye.

It was open.

For a moment, he wondered whether the other Timelord had returned, but the Master's presence was still just a distant whisper, somewhere far away from here. He frowned deeply, turning towards the mysteriously open door with his head tilted to one side. He couldn't imagine who else would be awake at this time of night, but the door had never opened by itself before.

He was listening carefully, listening past the droning of the ship for something else as he moved as close as he dared to the doorway. The corridor outside was swathed in black. He could see his own shadow on the floor, framed in the dull light from the window, but otherwise the hallway seemed to be empty.

And then he heard her move.

The Doctor leaned to the side, trying to see as far down the expanse of corridor as he could, narrowing his eyes as they grew accustomed to the dark. He suddenly froze.

Several meters down the hall, one of her paper-white hands placed delicately on the wall, stood Lucy Saxon. The Doctor looked at her uncertainly. She looked terrified, her eyes wide as they caught the glow of the night sky. It occurred to him that he hadn't seen a single person except the Master since Japan burned, and he couldn't remember even making eye contact with her before. It was strange to think about, now that they were staring so intently at each other in the silence.

After a moment her lips parted, hanging open as if steeling herself to say something. The Doctor held his breath.

Her hand lowered slowly from the wall. Her mouth closed, and she looked away from his gaze. A second later she turned and walked away, both as fast and as silently as she could, as if fleeing the scene of a crime. Soon she had turned a corner, her curls of mousy-blonde hair sweeping behind her as she passed from the Doctor's sight.

The Doctor continued to stand at the doorway, staring at the point where she had disappeared. He wasn't sure what to make of what had just happened, but there had been something in her face; some look or thought behind it that had significance. It was as though she had been trying to tell him something, to pass him a message that she was too frightened to speak out loud, or too confused to say.

He backed away, a deep and complex frown on his face as the door began to slide shut. Perhaps there had been no message; perhaps she was becoming unhinged, and the Doctor was just seeing what he hoped to see, but her expression was nagging at him, as though it were a puzzle he was meant to work out.

He raised a hand and ran it through his hair, blowing out a long breath. His head was already full to bursting without thinking about Lucy's problems, too. If she wasn't willing to talk to him, the only thing he could do to help her – help everyone - was concentrate on ending this.

He turned on the spot. Something hit the side of his shoe and began to roll across the carpet.

The Timelord looked down, watching the shadow of it move away from him across the room. He couldn't make out what it was in the darkness, but it seemed to be cylindrical from the way it moved. Eventually it came to a halt, lying still and silent in the low light from the window.

The Doctor's eyes widened, his brow knotting. He stared down at the shape before him as if he were looking at a ghost.

There on the floor, glinting blue and silver in the half-light, was his screwdriver.


	45. Chapter 41

**Note: **Short one (sorry about that) and probably the last one for a little while (sorry about that, too) but in the meantime let me know how I'm doing? Reviews are wonderful things for a writer, they really are.

Aaaand the blog post is up.

**Chapter 41**

The Doctor's mind was racing. Just staring down at the glinting silver and blue was giving him an even larger headache than the one he already had. His screwdriver. It seemed bizarre. The last time he'd seen it had been all those months ago when the Master had taken control. He'd thought it had been destroyed. It never occurred to him that he would see it again quite like this.

He took a tentative step forwards, as if approaching a dangerous animal. Lucy's expression; the way she had hurried away from the room suddenly made sense. He slid to one knee, reaching out a hand to rest on the carpet beside it. The Master had taken such unusual care to make sure he couldn't pose a threat, yet lying on the carpet of this perfectly contained room was the one thing that could possibly make the Doctor dangerous, and as much as he wanted to touch – to reclaim some small part of what the Master had taken away from him – there were far too many things to take into consideration before he made that decision.

_"Is it just me, or do you look a little less excited to see that thing than you should be?"_

_The Doctor heard the discomfort in Jack's voice. He glanced over, and as expected he saw him fold his arms across his chest, an almost uneasy look on his face. The Timelord shook his head. "It's not what you think." He said, forgiving Jack for the misunderstanding. "Believe me, I wanted to get out of that room as much as the Master wanted to keep me in it."_

_ "Then…" Jack shrugged. "Why the hold up?"_

_ The Doctor looked down at his previous self and sighed. "Because this was never about what I wanted." He muttered. "She didn't know it, but by giving me that screwdriver, Lucy had just put everything I'd been working towards in danger."_

_ Jack took another look at the Doctor kneeling on the floor. He could_ _see the consternation on the Timelord's face. A long time ago, before he'd met the Doctor, he never would have understood the hesitation, but now he knew very well how it felt to be responsible for the lives of others – even if he had failed miserably in his own attempt. "It was too much of a risk. If you took the gamble and you weren't fast enough-"_

_ "Then the entire universe was going to burn because of my mistake."_

_ Jack sighed silently. He had to admit that being freed five months early would have been a huge relief, but the Doctor was playing for more than freedom here. He couldn't imagine the kind of strength it must have taken to think that carefully after so long in solitude._

_ "So… what did you do with it?"_

_ The Doctor smiled coldly. "No, you still don't understand. Lucy forced my hand." He spread a palm out towards the scene before them. "If I'd kept the screwdriver the Master would have found it sooner or later, and he would have _known_ how it got there."_

_ Jack couldn't see the problem here. As callous as it seemed, compared to the survival of the universe, Lucy's seemed unimportant. "So?"_

_ He knew immediately he'd said the wrong thing. The Doctor glared at him deeply, and as always Jack felt like he was a child being reproved by a disapproving old man. "Oh you might refuse to go back, but that's still Torchwood coming out of your mouth." He said sharply. "Lucy wasn't evil, Jack. Whatever else she was… whatever else she became," his voice lowered to a mutter for a moment, then rose again, "she was still human."_

_ The Doctor had a strange way of looking at things. He always had, but this was the first time Jack had been close enough to understand just how complex the Timelord was. After the way this year had ended, and after realising just what had happened between the Master and the Doctor in the meantime, it was incomprehensible to him that the Doctor could feel any sympathy for her at all. If it had been him, he would have been willing to sacrifice one person to ensure the survival of so many others, but he supposed that if the Doctor ever thought that way, he wouldn't be the Doctor.  
_

_ "Giving me that screwdriver was a cry for help. A confused one, but in the end that's what it was." Continued the Timelord, apparently oblivious to Jack's confusion. He turned back to his previous self, who was still considering the screwdriver like a dangerous animal. Jack's Doctor moved closer to the scene, staring intently at it. "…And I made a promise to myself a _very_ long time ago," he said, his voice deep and almost reverent in the silence, "never to ignore a cry for help."_

The Doctor raised his hand from the carpet, letting his fingers hover a few inches above the screwdriver as the thoughts in his head spiralled slowly towards their conclusion. Lucy aside, if the Master found the screwdriver he would wonder why the Doctor hadn't attempted to use it. That could lead anywhere - from killing him out of paranoia, to thinking more carefully about what Martha might be doing. Both events were something he couldn't afford to happen. No, all things considered, there was only one option. He clenched his jaw, took in a deep breath, and his face set into a determined frown as he finally made the decision.

He snatched up the screwdriver, feeling the coldness of it against his fingers. It felt like holding an old friend, but he had no time to savour the sensation now. He raised himself up from his knee and moved swiftly to the door. With nothing else to do, he'd long ago worked out the technical details of his imprisonment, and he knew how to break it, given the right tool.

The screwdriver purred quietly as the Doctor slid it against the doorframe, the light of it almost blinding him in the near darkness. As expected, the door slid open a few seconds later, the cold air of the night outside filtering down the corridors of the Valiant. This time the Doctor was sure it was safe to walk through. His biggest fear had been that the Master would have deadlocked the system, but apparently the other Timelord was still as overconfident in his abilities as ever. That was one thing that had never changed.

He lowered the screwdriver slowly and stared out into the darkness beyond, standing on the threshold of the room that – for the last five months – had become his entire world. It felt like standing on the edge of a precipice. Once he crossed it, he knew the decision would be made, for good or bad.

The Doctor clenched his fists and took the fatal step out into darkness. Adrenaline and anxiety came to him as he looked around at the abandoned corridoors. Finally he and the Master were on fairly even ground, and he had the element of surprise. It gave him a chance.

He turned and made his way swiftly and silently down the corridor. He knew where he was going, and if he could make it there fast enough he could spare everyone any more pain. The Master would never even know it had happened until it was all over.

One way or another, this was going to end. Today.


	46. Chapter 42

**Note:** Again, next chapter will be up whenever I have free time (which is close to never recently), but I'm always contactable, and reviews are always _hugely_ appreciated.

Blog post is there.

**Chapter 42**

The sound of heavy footsteps echoed down the dark corridor. Beyond the small circular windows, flurries of white brushed silently against the side of the ship on their slow descent to the surface. The black-clad figure turned the corner and paused, holding his gun tightly across his chest as he scanned the empty space ahead of him for movement. Apparently satisfied that there was no-one there, he turned and began pacing back the way he came.

The Doctor peered out, watching the shadow of the guard disappear around the corner, and then stepped out from the doorway he had taken refuge in. He pulled the screwdriver from between his teeth and advanced as silently as he could.

He hadn't been expecting this. He'd hoped to make a beeline for the machine, but the route he had taken all those months ago with Martha and Jack was now out of the question: it ran down the centre of the ship, and he couldn't run that gauntlet. He had no idea where the Master might be, but he had to keep his distance or it would be as though he had raised the alarm himself, and every parallel route the Doctor tried was dotted with guards. It was slowing him down more than he could afford.

He paused at the junction where the guard had disappeared, pressing his back to the cold wall before he took a quick glance around the corner. He could see the figure moving away from him along the passageway. He pushed himself from the wall and strode silently past, making his way to the next junction as fast as he could.

The Doctor's legs ached. He'd spent the last five months doing nothing more than pacing across a confined space, and his muscles weren't used to this kind of exertion. He was sure it was only the adrenaline keeping him moving; adrenaline and that terrible awareness of how little time he had. His own heartbeats were beginning to sound uncomfortably like a countdown. It could be hours or mere minutes until the Master realised something was amiss, and if he did before the Doctor could reach his destination everything could be lost.

He halted at another doorway. The Doctor looked furtively round in the darkness and raised the screwdriver to the doorframe. The noise it made seemed worryingly loud in the Doctor's head, but he knew that was just anxiety. The engines were close, and the sound of them was beginning to act as cover for his actions. This was good: the room he was heading for had to be nearby. All he needed to find was a way down.

_"I don't get why you risked so much for that woman." Said Jack quietly. Even though he knew he and the Doctor couldn't affect the memories they were watching, he was almost convinced he should be whispering._

_ The Doctor at his side remained silent, following his former self through the newly-opened door as if he hadn't heard. Jack, however, knew that he had, and he suddenly stopped. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt stupid that he hadn't realised before. "That wasn't the only reason." It wasn't a question._

_ "It was a good enough reason." Said the Doctor firmly, almost defensively. He continued to follow the suited figure, expecting Jack to come with him. He didn't._

_ Because he was finally starting to understand his role in these memories now. Since their last conversation inside the Tardis he was beginning to see that everything he was being shown really did have a purpose, even if the Doctor himself didn't want to admit why._

_ "Doctor…" he said tentatively. The Timelord paused, but didn't turn. "…you're a great guy – an _amazing_ guy-"_

_ "Oh flattery really doesn't suit you." Interrupted the Doctor, cringing as he finally turned back._

_ "…but," continued Jack, ignoring the distraction, "you said it yourself: you're not perfect. If you were, you'd be no better than the Daleks or... I don't know - the Cybermen." He watched as the playful cringe fell from the Doctor's face. They looked at each other seriously in the half-light. "There were other reasons here. There had to be."_

_ The Doctor blinked and looked away, narrowing his eyes on the snow beyond the window. It seemed to suddenly freeze mid-air, suspended impossibly in the dark sky. The suited figure in the distance halted mid-step. The Doctor had paused the memory._

_ "There were a few, I suppose." He conceded, tilting his head a little. He placed his hands in his pockets in what Jack was almost certain was an act of discomfort. Jack walked forwards, closing the distance between them._

_ "Like?"_

_ "Well for one thing, if this ended today nobody else needed to die."_

_ "And?" Pushed Jack. _

_ "…And Martha would never even have to remember whatever she'd been through."_

_Jack didn't doubt for a moment that the Doctor was being sincere. He'd proved a thousand times how much he was willing to risk for the people he cared about, which was why one particular reason was now screaming out at him, and why he felt so sure that the Doctor was avoiding it._

_ He tried one final attempt. He spread his arms and shrugged. "And?"_

_ The Doctor glanced at him with a frown, then turned back towards the window and stared out at the snow hanging there, as if suspended on invisible threads. "And…" he sighed, apparently ready to admit defeat, "I thought that if I could end it today… get him back to the Tardis…" he trailed off here, as though unable or unwilling to finish the sentence. But this was the reason Jack had been waiting for, and he knew precisely the words that the Doctor couldn't bring himself to say. He remembered something the Doctor had said on the final day of this year. He hadn't even been able to comprehend the reasoning behind it then, but he did now: put into the proper context, it was one sentiment he understood painfully well. He bowed his head._

_ "…you could finally take care of him."_

_ "Well it had always been the plan to take him back with me." said the Doctor, a little too quickly. "Stop him causing himself or anyone else any more damage." He turned away from the window and looked down the hallway at the figure in the distance. "When we first came across him, previous experience told me there wasn't much hope for him, __but by this point…" He pulled his hands out of his pockets and walked off, catching up with his previous self, still frozen in that same position._

_ Jack followed at a slower pace. Apparently that conversation had gone as far as the Doctor was willing to take it right now._

_"You look a little lost." He called, changing the subject. The Doctor looked back over his shoulder. He raised his eyebrows._

_ "I thought about coming to find you." He said, almost apologetically. Jack smirked half-heartedly._

_ "Thought appreciated."_

_ The Doctor smiled. "…but I found someone else first."_

_The snow outside the windows began to fall once more. The Timelord in the memory shot forwards, resuming in his long strides. Jack and the Doctor followed._

The Doctor halted as he came to another junction in the corridor. The sound of the engines was becoming louder here, making the floor beneath his feet vibrate with the power of it. He glanced around the corner. This stretch of hallway seemed to be clear.

For the first time since he'd been imprisoned he took a deep breath spurred himself forwards, breaking into a flat-out run. The hum from beneath him covered his footsteps, though he tried to be as light-footed as he could. It felt like remembering a part of him he'd lost. He could feel the cold air sweeping through his hair; making his jacket flutter out behind him. Despite what was at stake, he couldn't deny that he'd missed this: just the simple act of being able to run felt intoxicating. Granted, it wasn't making his headache feel any better, but a headache was the least of his problems right now.

Doorways flitted past him on one side, windows on the other. He ignored both, concentrating on the route ahead. He was looking for a staircase, an elevator, anything that might take him down into the lower levels of the ship. The sky outside was becoming worryingly light now. Dawn couldn't be too far off.

There was a clattering sound in the distance and the Doctor skidded to a halt, grabbing the wall for support. His face was enveloped in a frown as he listened. Footsteps were drifting to him over the noise of the engines; footsteps heading towards him.

He swallowed and shrank back into the nearest doorway, pressing himself as close to the door as he could. It wasn't much of a hiding spot, but turning back was out of the question. He held his breath as the footsteps came closer. He couldn't afford to be found now he'd come so far.

"…not even daylight. How does he expect us to see what we're doing?" came a voice, carrying over the engines.

"I don't think he cares." came another, quieter voice. The Doctor suddenly realised that there were two sets of footsteps coming towards him. "I think he just likes making us work."

"Oh like last time? You nearly broke your neck." There was a disgusted grunt. "Just give me five minutes alone with that man." The voice lowered to a mutter, as if worried it might be overheard. "I'd make short _work_ of _him_."

"_Mum…_" hissed the other voice quietly.

The Doctor had been trying to remain still, but now he froze in earnest. Those voices were the two he'd least expected to hear on this little escape, but he had to admit that they were a relief. Perhaps his luck was about to change.

The footsteps came closer. "I mean it." Snapped Francine. Apparently five months of servitude hadn't improved her temper. "And that _woman_. One chance, that's all I ask. Just one chance and I'll-"

The Doctor suddenly lunged forward and grabbed one of the figures as they passed by. Tish gasped as he clamped a hand over her mouth, pulling her into the doorway. Francine's head snapped towards them. The bucket she was carrying clattered to the floor.

"Don't scream." Whispered the Doctor, still holding his hand tightly over Tish's mouth. Her eyes widened at the sound of his voice but she shook her head, understanding. He let go.

Francine was staring at him. The Doctor stayed in the doorway as Tish turned and backed away into the corridor. She smiled, but looked deeply confused. "Doctor." She breathed.

"Oh yes." He said quietly, smiling back at her. It felt good to talk to someone again.

"We thought you were dead." Interrupted Francine coldly.

"Yeah, sorry to disappoint." He said offhandedly. He didn't have time to contend with Francine's dislike of him right now. He turned his attention to Tish instead, stepping out of the doorway and into the corridor. He grabbed her shoulders, bowing his head as he looked at her intently. "Listen, I don't have much time. How's Jack?"

Tish looked away. She still looked in shock. "Oh he's… alive."

The way she said it didn't bode well, but he didn't have time to enquire further. He had to trust that Jack was strong enough to deal with whatever was being thrown at him. "Good." He said quickly, "That's good. And your dad?"

Tish opened her mouth to reply, but before she could her mother reached out and snatched her arm, pulling her forcibly from the Doctor's grip. He dropped his arms back to his sides, his face darkening as Francine dragged her daughter behind her as though afraid he might suddenly attack.

"Get away from him." She growled quietly. "He's _dangerous._"

The Doctor swept a hand over his face in frustration. This was the last thing he needed.

Tish jerked her arm away and went to walk forwards once more. "Mum-"

"No." She snapped. She took a step towards the Doctor, staring at him with that same contempt he'd seen there since the first time they'd met. "I don't know what you're doing, _Doctor_, and I don't care." She whispered, her voice shaking with what the Doctor could only imagine was anger. "But we want nothing to do with it. You've already managed to drag Martha into your twisted little game and I will not-"

The Doctor rolled his eyes in desperation. "Francine I _really _don't have time -."

"I will _not,_" she continued more pointedly, raising her chin proudly. The Doctor took in a deep breath, trying to remain patient. "let you put any more of my family in danger."

The Doctor looked at her for a moment. She was right, of course. Martha was down there, risking her life for him. Everyone else in her family except her son were prisoners, and there was every possibility that Leo was already dead. He could understand why she was placing the blame on him, but time was running out. He sighed and raised his eyebrows. "I swear, I never wanted any of this." He breathed. "But right now-"

"Oh of course." She said, her voice full of cold sarcasm. "Well then, that makes up for everything."

"Mum, just listen to him." Hissed Tish, placing a hand on her mother's shoulder. She, at least, seemed to understand the urgency. She looked up into the Doctor's face expectantly, and in the darkness the family resemblance was so striking that it made his stomach jolt: with that expression, it was almost like looking at Martha. He took a step closer to them both, trying to make them both understand how desperately he needed their help.

"Listen, I'm sorry, but I don't know how long I've got." He growled, keeping his voice low. "I can stop all this today. But first I need to get down to the lower levels without being seen. Now do either of you know _any_ way for me to get down there?"

His eyes flickered from one woman to the other, waiting for a reply, his hearts hammering furiously in his chest. Francine sighed and turned away, pursing her lips disapprovingly, but she did seem reluctantly willing to help. Tish looked into his face as she thought. Eventually she shook her head.

"All the staircases down are guarded. We're only allowed down there with permission."

The words took a moment to register in the Doctor's head, and when they did he felt a creeping sort of sickness begin to settle in the base of his stomach. He should have known.

"Elevators?"

"The _Master_ keeps them all off limits." Added Francine sourly, keeping her face turned away from him.

The Doctor shook his head desperately. "…Access shafts? _Anything_."

Tish simply looked at him, and the lack of reply was answer enough. He closed his eyes and rested back against the wall, placing a hand on his forehead. That was it then. If there was no way down then this whole gamble had been for nothing. The chase was over. He would end up wandering the corridors until either the guards or the Master himself found him, and then there was every possibility he would be so enraged that he really would kill him. He'd doomed everyone – himself and the Master included – with that single step out of his room. And he'd been hoping for so much more…

Tish watched him for a moment, biting her lip thoughtfully. She sidestepped her mother, wrenching her arm free as Francine tried to pull her back. The Doctor opened his eyes slowly at the movement. He suddenly felt exhausted. "There might be one way." She said uncertainly. The Doctor tilted his head away from the wall, listening carefully. "But it's locked."

The Timelord raised an eyebrow. "Not a problem."

But the uncertainty stayed in her eyes. She frowned. "…And it might be too dangerous."

The Doctor slowly pulled himself away from the wall, the tiredness sliding away as quickly as it had arrived. A new wave of adrenaline took its place. If there was still a chance, that was good enough for the Doctor.

"Oh Letitia Jones…" A smirk of relief began to spread wide across his lips. It made his face hurt. "...you _really_ don't know me very well."


	47. Chapter 43

**Note: **Just to let you know that I've moved the blog over to Wordpress instead of Blogger. That means that if anybody's a little further behind in the story and are vaguely interested then they won't be pelted with spoilers every time they click (all the entries are on self-contained pages). I've changed the link on my profile page, but the Blogger version will still be updated.

Also, don't worry - the Master will be back. I'm not saying when, of course, but he will come back into it soon!

**26/05/15: **I know you guys are waiting for an update, and it will come, don't worry. It's just that the end of uni comes with more than just exams - packing up and heading back home, visiting family, deciding what the hell I'm actually going to do with my life after this point... oh, and lots of drinking. Plus real life stuff and... well, I don't want to bore you with the details, but basically my life is a bit hectic at the moment, and rushing this would just be horrible, do both characters a _terrible_ disservice and make me thoroughly unhappy.

I'm not going to promise when it will be updated, since that just makes me panic, but I'll give you a rough estimate: Tuesday or Wednesday next week. I'm out of practice though, so be gentle?

It's not forgotten, I promise. I _will_ see you next chapter.

Turkaholic.

**Chapter 43**

"Don't you _dare_."

The smirk on the Doctor's face was short-lived. It fell almost as fast as the wild flurries of snow now pelting against the side of the Valiant. An irritable glare took its place as he tilted his head towards Francine: she was staring into him, her face full of indignant anger as the light outside caught the lines on her face. He didn't need her to explain, he already knew very well what she thought of him; what it was she was afraid of.

"I wasn't going to." He growled. He'd spent so long being patient, staying calm, unable to do anything but watch as the Master destroyed and corrupted everything. Now he was finally in a position to change that, and Francine was wasting the little time he had with her own concerns, too stubborn to see the bigger picture. Despite his best efforts, he was beginning to lose his temper.

"I'm going with him, mum."

The Doctor closed his eyes heavily as Tish turned her back to him, frowning at her mother. This was the last thing he needed, and the thing Francine had been afraid of. "If he can help-"

"Letitia." Interrupted Francine, her voice shaking as she reached out for her daughter's hand. She lowered her voice to a whisper, though the Doctor could still hear every word. "You are staying right here. I will not lose another daughter to that…" Her eyes moved over Tish's head, examining the Doctor as she searched for the right word, "_madman._"

The Doctor kept his mouth firmly shut, even as indignation rose up in his chest. Allowing his frustration to get the better of him would just delay him more.

Tish looked defiantly into her mother's face and took in a deep breath. "It's my choice."

"He's going to get you _murdered._"

"Your mother's right." Interjected the Doctor quickly. He had to get this resolved as fast as possible, and Tish had misunderstood him entirely. "I can't ask you to come with me, it's too dangerous. Just tell me where to go."

"But-"

The Doctor gritted his teeth and sighed forcefully in frustration, cutting her off. He was starting to panic now. He grabbed her shoulder and pulled her round to face him. "I don't have _time_ to stand here and argue." He said impatiently. Tish looked at him with an almost hurt expression, and the Doctor suddenly felt a pang of regret. None of this was her fault. All the pent-up frustration of the last seven months had apparently taken their toll on him now he was free.

He sighed, biting back the inappropriate anger, and moved his features into a sympathetic frown. "Look, I understand. You want to help, and it's appreciated – _really_, honestly, it's brilliant." He added quickly, palms outstretched in front of her, "Ten out of ten, points for effort... but the best way you can help right now is just to tell me where to go."

"Finally the man talks sense." Said Francine lowly. Tish sighed, looking at him dejectedly as she stepped away. Finally, she simply raised her hand and pointed down the corridor they had come from.

"Second turning on your right, third on your left. There's a hatch in the floor, about halfway down." She said simply, the fire gone from her voice. The Doctor watched her silently for a moment. Part of him was desperately tempted to give in; to let her come with him even in spite of the risk. He'd spent so long alone that some honest human company would have been a comfort, but the danger was too great, and the Jones' had already suffered enough. There was the slightest chance the Master might spare him if all went wrong, but he knew the other Timelord too well to think he would spare a human.

"Thank you." He forced himself to say instead, taking one last look at both of them. Something about this seemed ominously final, but he kept that thought to himself. His lip twitched upwards in a half-hearted smile as he looked into Tish's still disappointed face, then he glanced reluctantly over at Francine. She surveyed him carefully for a moment, her lips pressed thin and her expression conflicted. Apparently hating him was a little more difficult when he'd just protected her daughter.

"Good luck." She said, the words coming out as if they were somehow foreign; as though she was trying to speak a different language.

The Doctor finally turned away, not trusting himself to say anything else. He began down the corridor, following the directions he'd been given, but he'd barely travelled a few metres when Francine's voice reached him once more.

"…And if _He_ comes looking?"

The Doctor paused mid-step, the words making his stomach tense. Slowly he turned and looked over his shoulder, levelling on Francine with a serious, wide-eyed stare. He shook his head just slightly.

"Do nothing." He commanded quietly, his teeth bared. There was a brief second's hesitation before he said the next words. "…He's _my_ responsibility."

* * *

Tish stood still, watching as the Doctor's figure grew smaller and smaller along the corridor. Finally he paused, resting a hand on the wall as he peered around the corner, and then disappeared.

"Now... we just pretend this never happened." Muttered Francine, reaching down to pick up the things she'd dropped. Tish didn't move. She seemed rooted to the spot. Francine paused, her eyes darting up to the back of her daughter's head. "Don't even think about it." She said dismissively. "You heard him: he doesn't need your help. For once he and I actually agree on something."

"Just because he said so doesn't make him right." She said quietly, eyes still fixed in the distance.

Francine stood upright, abandoning the bucket and the items scattered across the cold floor and stared down the empty corridor, her lips pursed. "Everything that's happened to this family is because of that man."

Tish shook her head. "No."

"Yes." Hissed Francine. Tish turned to look at her. "Just _look_ at us. Look at Leo – and Martha."

"Martha's not dead." She breathed. "She's alive, because of him. She trusted him."

"Then for once in her life she was foolish." Francine said harshly. She reached up and placed a hand on her daughter's cheek, staring into her intently. "Tish listen to your mother. He's not a hero... he's not even _human_. He's an alien. A _dangerous_ alien."

Tish glared into her mother's face. "And who told you that, mum? _Harold Saxon_?"

The words seemed to strike the older woman momentarily dumb. Tish sighed and pulled her mother's hand away. "You weren't there when Professor Lazarus died." A nervous smile spread across her face. "I was. I've seen what the Doctor can do… and he's _incredible_." She began to back away from Francine, slowly retreating along the corridor. "If anyone can stop this, it's him."

"Then let him do it _alone_." Called Francine desperately, trying to keep her voice low.

"And what if he dies?"

Francine shifted uncomfortably, opening her mouth in silence as she thought. "...Then at least you won't die with him." She said eventually, the words coming slowly and sternly.

"I may as well." Laughed Tish coldly. She spread out her arms to the walls around her as she backed away another step. "Because if _this _is all I've got to look forward to then I'd rather die trying to do something about it, thanks."

"Tish, _please._ Don't make the same mistake as your sister!"

There was a pointed silence as the words sank in. The two women stood staring at each other, Tish's eyes widening in disbelief, her eyes glistening just slightly with tears. Francine shook her head, a look of realisation dawning on her face as she saw the younger woman's expression harden defiantly.

"You know what?" Said Tish quietly, "one of these days you might just trust us both to make our own decisions."

With that she turned on the spot and walked away, leaving Francine staring helplessly after her, silent and alone in the half-light.

* * *

The sky outside had now reached a dangerously light shade of violet. The Doctor walked at a furious pace along the passageway, his attention divided between the floor in front of him and the corridor ahead.

He'd passed the engines here, and they were returning to that distant hum that he'd become so sickeningly accustomed to these past months. It meant he couldn't rely on background noise for cover anymore, and he was beginning to wonder if he'd made a wrong turning, or missed what he was looking for..

Arguing with Francine and Tish had used up time he didn't have to spare, but so far he'd sensed no change in that connection between the Master and himself. That was a good sign, but once the Sun rose and the Valiant came to life, there was no knowing how close the other Timelord might pass – either to himself, or the empty white room, and either event would raise the alarm. If that happened, there was no way of telling where and how this day would end.

He narrowed his eyes on the dimly-lit floor, scanning it for any sign of the hatch Tish had mentioned. She'd said it was dangerous, but he'd had no time to ask about the details. He would have to deal with whatever it was when he came to it.

The Doctor suddenly halted, feeling his breath hitch in expectation as he noticed an inconsistency in the floor ahead: A thin black line made itself apparent in the plain white, running against the line of tiles. It was only as he moved closer towards it that he let his breath out in relief. The line actually formed part of a square, the outline of it barely wider than a hair. The only other indication that it was any different to the rest of the floor was a small steel lock. He brushed his foot over it out of curiosity. It was set perfectly into the floor. He could barely feel the difference.

He imagined that was the point. The Master had designed the Valiant himself, after all. Working for the Ministry of Defence, making concessions in the design must have infuriated him, but apparently he'd made sure that any points of weakness were well disguised. The Doctor's hearts went out in gratitude to Tish: If she hadn't told him to look for it, he would have walked right past this without even noticing.

He lowered himself silently to his knees, running his fingers over the hairline crack in the floor. There was a chance that it would be deadlocked, but the Doctor was hoping that the other Timelord had imagined the risk too small to bother. He plunged his hand into his jacket, pulled out his screwdriver, and rested it against the barely visible lock.

And then he froze.

He'd heard something: the soft squeak of rubber against tile. He felt his hair stand on end.

For a moment he thought he was imagining it, but even as he listened he heard it again. Someone was coming down the corridor. Someone trying desperately to be silent.

He raised his head and turned reluctantly towards the source of the noise, every muscle in his body tensing, ready to run. His eyes focused on the figure moving towards him and he sighed, rising slowly back to his feet as his hearts sank in recognition.

The guard halted as their eyes met. Wordlessly he raised his gun, taking careful aim at the Doctor's chest.


End file.
